Refugee Origins
by Echodex
Summary: Explains the workings of the universe my characters and those that I borrowed are living in as a series of oneshots so you can see the big picture. Clears the other story a bit. Rated for possible adult themes and certainly violence.
1. Prologue

This little bit will explain my universe a little, at least the history of Cybertron. We stop where the next chap begins, as I introduce to you a very beloved character that's been floating around my brain like an obsessed moth for quite some time. The chapters will, of course, be a whole lot longer than this. To those who, by the way, are wondering why I've been dead for like, what, two months, maybe closer to three? I've gone away from my home country for 10 months. Reason for this sudden, albeit planned departure, would be that I'm an exchange student. ;) Fun as hell, but this has got to have been the hardest 1,5 months of my life so far... I'm exhausted. Anyway, enjoy. The first real chapter to this one is almost done, I'll upload as soon as possible, maybe already in a couple of days. As for the other story, which I'm trying to update rather soon too, I'm experiencing a little trouble in getting through a point with reasonably little embarrassement for myself, since I have no idea how to write it and I don't wanna rush. I hate rushing. Especially since the rest is so nicely written, it would look too stupid. I'd never live it down... I hope I don't hook you too much, because the updates will be irregular. At best.

* * *

In the beginning, when the Cybertronian race was first created by the Allspark, they were all equal, all one. The only noticeable difference between the first Cybertronians was that some had red optics, some had blue. No one knew why it was so.

It never mattered.

For a long, long time, everything went well. Though their numbers increased, the Cybertronians remained a peaceful race with no need to leave their native planet. Gradually the people started noticing differences in the two halfs of Cybertronian beings. The red-optics, being bigger and stronger, began working the hard shifts of work, building and creating structures of great wonder and beauty. One particular part of these red-opticed Cybertronians, those gifted with wings, became the messengers of the planet. The blue-optics, though smaller and not as strong, excelled in the practice of the mind, planning and developing new, better technology to serve the ever-growing population. They were led by a chosen Prime, and it was made so that there was always an equal amount of both red- and blue-optic heritage in the leaders, so that they could effectively lead everyone equally. For almost ten millennia, life was good and fair on Cybertron, and the people prospered.

Then, something went terribly wrong.

It began with the decision of a Prime. In his opinion, it wasn't right that all the others had the right to freely choose their spark-mates from the whole population, and the line of Primes couldn't. Instead of taking a red-optic femme as he was supposed to, he bonded with another blue-optic femme, like his mother had been. This wasn't a problem, and life went on. Unfortunately, the following Primes, too, chose almost only blue-optics, and as the red-optic heritage lessened in the Prime lineage, so did the status of the red-optics in the society. In the end, four millennia after the Prime who chose differently, the red-optics were referred to as Decepticons, and the better folk, the ones with the blue optics, were Autobots. There still were some who bonded with someone from the other social class, but they were few and far in between, much fewer than in the beginning. Our story begins here, in a time when the Autobots live in the grand, brightly lit metropolitan cities of Cybertron, while the Decepticons, now rendered redundant by the advanced technology, prowl the city edges, scratching their living off anything that doesn't move fast enough to avoid capture. They are unhappy, discontent, filled with scorn and hate directed at their well-faring kin.

The Allspark shivers in its place in the middle of the grand city of Iacon, the capital of the Cybertronian empire. It shivers in anticipation of a change.

A revolution.

A _war,_ ready to tear the beautiful planet apart with its infinite rage. If it could, the Allspark would cry, because that war is now inevitable. And close. The children of the Allspark will never be the same.

The Allspark shivers again.


	2. The Birth of an Assassin

**Disclaimer: **I own only the plot-line and Cripplerip, and I'm proud of her, so if you plan on using her somewhere, I'd better not find out only afterwards! Meaning: tell me before you publish.

This is the first of many one-to-three-shots about the history of my OC's, and how the refugees first came to be. They will be written in different POVs and are not directly linked to each other, even if they are written from the POV of the same character. This isn't necessary to read to understand the stuff going on in the main stories, but it will give more depth to the characters themselves, and explains more about their natures and pasts, thus clearing their reactions, if they at times seem weird.

Okays, enough of explanations for now. **This first one is in the POV of Cripplerip, a young femme at the time. Age: 563 Earth years, time: just before the Decepticons made themselves known to the public. Sentinel Prime is alive and leading the Cybertronians with the High Council. The civilians don't yet know anything of the war that's right on their doorstep, due to the Council trying to cover it up to avoid mass hysteria. The place where everything begins here: Iacon.**

Iacon.

The very center of the Cybertronian way of life.

Iacon.

A place where the past and the present meet and walk in harmony, hand in hand.

Iacon.

The greatest tribute to the Primes and their lineage for the peace and prosperity that rains upon their people. The city of great steel towers that draw figures into the lowest of clouds. The city of light, of literature, of music, of arts, the city of the High Council and the home of the elite families of the Cybertronian society.

Iacon…

_What a load of slag,_ I thought as I peered from the dark alley I had crouched in to conceal myself from the people passing by on the well-lit street. I snorted. Had I taken two steps, I would have been in the clear view of the pedestrians walking by, presently blissfully unaware of the loathing glares I sent their way. It was a rather busy day, since one of the major enterprises of the city had a sale, and everybody wanted their share of the deal. Not only were there regular commoners, average people in the streets, as was usual, but some bigger transports from the really wealthy pars of the city were slowly trudging their way through the crowd. The elite families didn't bother walking to places. That had always been for the lesser people.

The elite… by no means was I elite! I spared a glance at myself and grimaced. My frame was dirtied, dull and covered in scrapes from places I wished I had never visited. My arms and legs were thin, and the few pieces of armor covering my body were screaming to be released to the scrap-head where I knew they were from in the first place. My whole body was a huge, walking malfunction with all the things that were wrong with it. All of my systems were running at half power or lower, and I knew that my optics had long ago lost their shine, and were now only a dull glow from behind the visor I had stolen from a dead mech some time ago. It was way too big for me and kept slipping half-way down my face, but that had never bothered me before. It did now, when I was supposed to have good vision of my surroundings. _Then again,_ I thought to myself with a sardonic smile, _having a visor of any kind is good when I'm on little escapades like this one here. I don't want anyone noticing my presence, and it gets tricky if I have my optics glowing so brightly that even a blind piece of slag would see me from across the town._

I stole another glance to the lighter, better world just two simple steps away. The civilians were not of high standard, they were the average mechs and femmes: basic armor, well-maintained with maybe a hint of polishing here and there… and they wore smiles. Genuine, happy smiles. Like everything was right with the world. Perhaps that applied to their world. The one I was gazing at, but was still unable to enter. But, they lived in a different world, a different _universe_, not the one I was struggling in…

I rolled my optics at my earlier stupidity. Two simple steps away? That world might as well have been in the arms of Primus himself, that was how _simple_ it would have been to get to, looking like I did!

_I shouldn't even be here,_ I reminded myself and shifted on the spot, making sure I was totally out of sight. I knew I was about to pull a stunt big enough to attract a lot of attention, so I really didn't need an audience when I was waiting for the opportune moment to act.

I checked my chronometer and swore under my breath. Either it was broken (again), which wouldn't have been such a surprise, seeing as it was an ancient model I picked up from somewhere after my old one broke when I landed from a fall inappropriately, or I was way early. I sighed. This was not going as I had planned.

Deciding the chronometer should still be in working order, I leaned against the filthy wall I had taken refuge by. I knew the shipment of energon I was waiting would not, according to my ever so disloyal chronometer, be there for several more breems. I settled down to wait a little further down the alley, but made sure I had an escape route should someone harass me, and also secured a constant view to the street.

After just a few clicks I was getting bored, so I entertained myself by wondering what kind of lives the people passing me were leading. There was a big mech that looked like he owned the place: I imagine he was a manager of a small company, but was really desperate to be more, perhaps even reach the title of Chairman of the High Council. _Someone should tell the fragger that he'd be a bit more credible if he didn't have his head up the aft of his superiors,_ I snickered to myself and watched him hustle his way through the hordes of overly pleasant people.

There were two young mechs that were talking animatedly to each other about an Academy. They were probably trying to get to the Military Academy of the High Council, like so many others. They wanted to become warriors, protectors of the people of Cybertron, and get glory and respect for it. _Protectors from what, I wonder…_

A mother and her wailing child, a young femme openly flirting with three mechs, who were unaware of each other, some older 'bots telling each other stories of times old past, stories that were mostly made up because their memory banks had failed some time or another. Ordinary people. Happy people. And very, very ignorant people.

"You're late!"

"Sorry, some big bosses were blocking the way at the ramp. I came as fast as I could."

_Slaggit_!

I quickly scrambled my abused body as close to the edge of the light as I dared for fear of being seen. My fragging useless chronometer was determined to undermine my best attempts at getting my share of energon from the society, it seems. I made a mental note to dispose of it before it fooled me again before re-focusing myself on the important stuff.

Like how to get that high-security transportful of energon to my secret hide-out without getting the police forces of all Iacon on my aft.

The driver had stepped out and was talking with the merchant that had bought the energon. The energon the merchant had paid for. The very energon I was about to steal from him. I felt a sudden surge of sympathy, but quickly disposed of the ridiculous feeling. Since when did I give a piece of scrap for the higher classes, again? I shook my head and listened in on the conversation.

"Here it is: 300 cubes of mid-grade, as requested. And another 50 cubes of high-grade, specially brewed. Anything else?"

"Not that I know of. Where do I sign?"

I had to act quickly. The merchant wasn't going by the pattern I thought he'd go by. I knew the mech from afar; he was usually a very talkative mech and tended to get tangled in conversation every time someone so much as sneezed at him. Figures the mech would be too busy to talk the one time I actually wanted him to have a nice, long chat with someone. I'd have to stall them, but without involving myself on it.

"Hey! Don't run so fast! You know I can't keep up with you if you really start to run!" I heard a youngling's voice complain.

"Oh, come ON! Even you're not that slow!" I turned my attention to the younglings for a moment. "I feel like really starting up something! This place is so boring it's going to off-line me some day!" a young mech of maybe 12 orns exclaimed. I couldn't hold back the sinister smile forming on my face. The winded youngling behind my new mischievous friend stopped to catch his breath.

"Whatever, 'Knot. I'm going home, see you tomorrow!"

"Fine, see ya…" he sighed as his friend started to wobble to the opposite direction they came from. I took it as my cue to step in and make the youngling's wish about starting something come true. Hey, one does have to help those around him, right?

"Hey, kid!" I quipped at him, making him whip around and look at me. His face immediately turned into a disgusted grimace. I'd stepped into the light, and I wasn't the prettiest thing to look at. I smiled nevertheless. It was a part of the plan for him to see me like this; after all, _my_ kind never came to the better parts of the cities. In fact, few of the citizens actually knew of our existence behind the city walls.

"Come here," I beckoned and motioned him to come hither. He did so, reluctantly, but left enough room for himself to run away if the freak femme from the shadows tried to eat him. No fear of such. He had his uses, but I needed to fuel myself otherwise.

"What do you want?" he asked wearily. I bowed a bit so my back hunched in a way that I looked old and crippled, and pitched my voice one octave higher than it actually was.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and your friend talked about, and it stirred some memories deep within my old and withered spark," I lied. I looked to the sky wistfully, as if I was remembering times long since past. "I was once like you, you know?" I started, feeling like one of those story-telling old mechs. I was suddenly glad I couldn't see myself. I probably looked and sounded like an old geezer, and I was still only a couple of hundred vorns old, a femme in her prime! "I was the adventurous type in my time. Can't say I did anything with it, but life was good. Would you do an old femme a favor and do something for me?" I asked, praying with every single molecule in my ready-for-the-smelter frame that he'd buy my tall tale. Unbelievably, he did. But just barely.

"Okay… What do you need?"

I refrained from jumping up and screaming out of sheer joy. Instead, I kept my voice high and whiny and started to lie some more.

"I want to feel adventurous one more time before I truly retire. Like a youngling, you see?" I asked him and he nodded awkwardly. Great, I was scaring him with the old femme –act. I changed into story-telling mode, and for greater effect, turned my head and gazed longingly at the sky again while talking. "When I was a youngling, like you, we used to have contests of sorts. Running, jumping, climbing… everything one would need on an adventure. My favorite, however," I paused for a dramatic effect, hoping to Primus or any other deity that I wasn't over-doing it, "was the distance throwing."

He just nodded and looked at me like he thought I'd be better off in a facility for senile, CPU-damaged old exhaust fumes than out and about, roaming the streets and scaring the younglings into believing in Primus. I had to agree.

I gave him the best smile I could with my face still looking like an out-dated version of a commoner. "Would you compete with me? Just one round," I pleaded. The younglings thought about it for a minute, then shrugged.

"Fine."

"Oh, thank you, young one. You don't know what it means to me," I said, and for once in our conversation, I wasn't lying. "I'll take the first throw. Then you try and beat my score," I explained. He just looked at me like I had just stated that my main color scheme was yellow under all that slag on my armor. Surprising, yes, but necessary information? No.

"Riiiiiight…" he stretched and then gave me a slight bow. "Ladies first."

Honestly, I felt like punching the fragger. I was no lady! I did manage to smile a little, though it was tough, to keep up the façade that was going well so far.

"Thank you, my boy," I sneered and picked up a piece of metal lying around from the over-flowing trash canisters. I measured it carefully in my hand, and then threw it to the street when there was a pause in the steady flow of people. I purposefully made the throw weak, so the piece only sailed through half the street before bouncing on the ground. I let out a disappointed sound.

"Oh, well, I hope you'll have more luck. Then again," I said, measuring my next words carefully, "I doubt that a youngling such as yourself can beat me in this game, no matter how old I am. Besides, you are a sweet youngling, but you hardly have any brawn. Not at all like the mechs in my day…" I boasted, and from the corner of my optic I saw that his left optic twitched a little. Good, I fragged him off. I was right in assuming that this one had an ego.

"Not like the mechs in your day, eh? I'll show you, lady. Watch!" he yelled and threw the scrap-piece as hard as he could – straight to the direction I wanted him to! _Primus is with you today, Crips… _I thought to myself as I watched the metal fly.

The piece of metal he chose while I threw sailed through the air and landed into the window of the shop the merchant I was preying on had, and the window exploded into a shower of sharp blades cutting the air around them.

"Oh _slag!_" the youngling mech exclaimed and ran to check the damage._ Idiot,_ I thought and shrunk back to the shadows to survey the damage I did. Both the merchant and the courier had been attracted to the sound of the voice, and as soon as they saw the mechling look guilty, the merchant mercilessly charged. The youngling proved me wrong in assuming that he was an idiot and legged it.

"Hey, you! Youngling! Come back 'ere!" the infuriated owner of the shop screamed after the poor unfortunate kid and tore after him.

"Wait up!" the courier yelled and ran after them, leaving the remains of the window on the ground – and the transport totally unprotected against scavenging outcasts. _Such as myself,_ I grinned.

I watched the three race around the corner and out of my view and couldn't help congratulating myself on an act well played. I quickly sobered however. I did have an energon shipment to plunder.

As much as I did despise my ready-for-scraps body, it did possess one aspect I treasured more than anything: my hands and arms. Or more specifically, the built-in weapon they housed. Ten claws, as long as my forearms, capable of tearing through nearly anything. It was the only part of my whole body that I bothered to keep well maintained and in optimum condition. My claws had saved my aft many times before, and now they would secure me the energon I needed to keep myself alive for another day.

One last check for any patrolling officers and I dashed through the slowly moving crowd to the vehicle and thrust all five of my right-hand claws deep into the locking mechanism. I was rewarded with a promising sound of the lock disabling itself. I gave the lock one last twist before withdrawing my claws from it, only to slash the hinges off the door. I yanked the offending piece down to the ground, noticing that I had already gathered quite the crowd to watch me. I paid them no mind, my mission was much more important anyway.

I darted inside, pulling a small bag I always carried with me from sub-space. Once I disabled the lock on the cube-containers in the same fashion the door had gone, I started stuffing them into the bag when my optics hit a smaller container, almost hidden behind some of the others. I recalled the conversation I eavesdropped on and realized what I was looking at.

_The high grade!!!_

I threw the innards of my bag on the floor and disposed of the lock in an instant, and soon I was happily loading the brightly shining cubes into my bag. Once full, I turned around and exited the transport. I was extremely pleased with myself.

Nicely improvised, quickly instigated and beautifully executed… And I didn't even get caught!

"What the -? Hey! That's a private transport!"

I stand corrected…

I turned to see who it was they were yelling to, even though I did have a strong suspicion of it already. The merchant, the courier and the kid were back. And they brought company.

Apparently, the kiddo was a bit peeved at me for framing him like that.

"That's the femme I was talking about, officer! She tricked me into it!" the mechling babbled and looked at me with optics practically screaming: You're in it now! But I wasn't interested in him at that moment. Oh no, the one that really was worth my interest was the officer next to him.

He was a big, black mech, and he sported twin cannons on his forearms. His optics were a bright blue color, and he looked like someone you really didn't want to mess with. He was rather bulky, not very tall, but wide and, I easily guessed, quite heavy. He had six other mechs trailing after him, but he was clearly the commander of the group. I knew I knew him from somewhere, but where could I have –

My optics tripped on a small holograph on the merchant's window that wasn't in pieces. There it was, the picture of Sentinel Prime and his closest advisors. One mech looked eerily familiar…

_Oh, of all the fraggers…!_ I thought to myself and once again stared straight to the optics of the irritated weapons specialist and friend of our Prime. Designation: Ironhide.

I almost felt like laughing out loud at myself. I was so dead. If I suddenly, against all odds, hit a lucky streak. If not, he'd make me actually _live_.

I could only laugh internally at my earlier naivety.

_Beautifully executed, hmm? Didn't get caught, HMM? DIDN'T TAKE INTO ACCOUNT THAT THE PRIME HAD ALREADY NOTICED THE INCREASED ACTIVITY OF US DOWNWORLDERS, HMM?!?!?!?! Oh, WOW you're in royal slag now, Crips! _I congratulated myself as I attempted to smile innocently at the growling mechs of law. I was a good actress, but even I couldn't pull something like that off. I had run from them before, easily evading capture, but with Ironhide and those twin monsters of his… I'd heard stories of the mech, and none of them had a happy ending in the criminal point of view.

I laughed uneasily.

"Hehhee, hey guys! What's going on? Doing good, feeling nice, patrol going smoothly, weapons primed…? Ehhehee…" I blabbered while taking miniscule steps away from them. I was sure that if _he _didn't open fire, I'd be able to lose them and get the loot away safely, too. There was a catch, though.

He looked like his trigger-servo was more than ticklish today.

_And _he had aim like Unicron himself.

OH. SLAG.

Before they could properly react, I made a valiant and just decision not to beat them up today, but to let them off with a warning. Translation: I legged it.

I did it way better than that young punk though.

"AAAAAH!" I screamed as I tore down the street, scaring, shoving and pushing people from my way. Just as I thought that I had some odd stroke of luck and Ironhide wouldn't dare open fire in such a dense crowd -

"AAAAAH!" I screamed again as I felt the heat of a plasma round tickled my left thigh's side.

"IIAAAAH!!!" I roared when a blast from, I would guess a small missile projectile, blew up a nearby crate, this time from my right.

_Damn him to the Pit and back!_

I weaved through the now scared and confused crowd of bumbling commoners and a few higher mechs with their families and attempted to shake my none-too-friendly-but-way-too-trigger-happy pursuers. Suddenly, to my horror, I realized I wasn't sure where I was. Swearing, I turned a corner, expecting to see another streetful of ignorant stand-byers whose lives were about to get unpleasant and very hectic, courtesy of the visiting lunatic with the illegally large cannons, when I was unexpectedly met with –

A wall.

_OH fragging slagging Pit-headed Unicorn-spawned glitching frag-headed built-of-spare-parts malfunctioning half-rusted son of a slagtard!_ I once again congratulated myself as my feeble and undeniably out-dated battle computer tried to think of a way out of this mess, with or without the slagging high-grade. It came out as a blank an astrosecond before the fragging thing actually went and crashed. I grimaced. _Note to self: if you get out of this mess, find the guy who did the so-called patch-job on your BC. He is pleading for an aft-whooping._ I sighed, almost despairing. _You're made of spare parts,_ I sighed to myself and got ready to face my impending doom who, to some, was known as Ironhide, weapons specialist in training. A very good trainee, I had to admit to myself.

"Psst! Hey, you!"

I whipped around to face a darker corner in the very back of the alley and saw two red dots insistently staring into my optics. I frowned. It seemed like I wasn't the only one not from around here.

"Who are you, then?" I inquired, painfully aware of the footfalls closing in on me, and the voices of the mechs shouting each other advice.

"No time to explain, but I am a friend. Come with me," the voice ordered. Despite my grim situation, I was too proud to just let someone lead me to an unknown location without giving me any more information than a vague promise of a friendship, a promise I could not trust. I didn't move, and set my jaw into a tight angle, making sure I looked as defying as I possibly could. The stranger saw that, and I heard a soft chuckle from the shadows.

"Or would you rather wait here for the officers to show up? It doesn't really matter to me, but you should know that they don't treat us lesser," he spat the word out like it was poisonous, "beings the same as the lazy bums living off our backs, no matter what the government," he spat again, "has to say for the matter."

I realized I had just two options: follow the stranger, who obviously held a strong grudge against the upper classes and was overly fanatic about it, translation: insane, OR I could let myself be found and risk getting pummeled, raped and/or killed by the lesser officers before I ever had a trial, and then get sentenced two centuries for theft. I had to admit the strange fellow in the shadows was right about something – the law wasn't on equal grounds on us.

The choice itself wasn't hard to make.

When the officers rounded the corner, I and my new "friend", and I use the term loosely, were well on our way back to the place we both called home, away from the dangerous lights of the great glass and steel city.

_***(Two orns later)***_

"Keep moving!"

I stumbled, a curse automatically flying from my lips just before the ground shook with the force of another missile exploding mere yards from where I lay on my stomach.

"Get up, cadet! If you want to die, I'll be more than ready to give a helping _gun_, but you aren't allowed to die on a mission just because you are a worthless pile of recyclables!"

"Sir yes sir!" I fairly screeched back and pushed myself back to my feet.

It was just another normal day in the life of a 'Con cadet. Shoot, dodge, run, fall on your face, shoot, run and shoot, dodge… A never-ending dance in the planes of death. Kill or be killed, no other rules. Sometimes I wondered if I'd made the right choice in coming here to join in the first place. Then I always remember the condition I used to be in. I remember my home, my friends… and my family, shredded, torn and tossed aside by the Council. My family before they perished because the higher classes refused to see our plight, to hear our cries for mercy, refused to care.

Or worse, as I'd later learned, didn't even _know_.

I pushed myself to go faster, dodging, running and shooting, feeding my strength with the anger and frustration threatening to boil my insides to a molten heap. How could they _not_ know our situation?! Iacon, the city where I'd spent most of my life in, was the fragging capital, and in the edges dwelled hundreds of slowly dying Decepticons, for frag's sake, and if our so-called "leaders" couldn't even _see_ their misery and _do something_ about it, then how could they run the whole planet-wide nation? How could they look after their own people when they were so weak, so blind and helpless?

I could feel my lips set into a tight grimace of unhidden rage. It was time for a change. For revolution. For a different power to arise and claim its rightful place at the top of our corrupt society and make sure that, again after a time too long to remember, every mech and femme would be equally treated. It was time for Megatron, our leader, a son of two middle-class workers, to step forth from the masses and cast down the rotten remains of the Council that was so painfully clearly inadequate to lead. At first, when I learned he was only just fully grown, I'd laughed. And then I heard him speak to the crowd for the first time… I had heard many wannabe revolutionary leaders already, this was by no means a new idea, to be sure, but they had all been wind-bags with too much time on their idle servos. But this young mech… He spoke passionately, powerfully, ordering us to finally take what was rightfully our place in the society: not below others like mere drones or machines of hard labor, but as equals, or perhaps even as a higher power.

Another shockwave from an explosion shook me from my trance-like state and into the present. I had just about enough time to dodge another blast from laser fire when I saw another cadet go down hard, hit and downed by some Gatling gun. He fell with a scream, his right leg rendered useless in because of the heavy damage it sustained from the real-round bullets embedded deep within it.

"Help! Somebody, please!" he cried, pleaded while covering his helm with his arms in a feeble attempt at protection. I changed my course immediately, but when I moved to help him, a hand on my arm made me stop on my tracks.

"Leave him! Remember the mission, cadet," my senior officer barked and tugged on my arm, wanting me to keep moving towards the target. I was bewildered.

"B-But sir! He's injured and requesting help -"

"Do I look like I give a slag? Now run, cadet, or I'll make you look just like the sorry fragger!" he roared at my face and shoved me to the ground in front of his feet, leveling his big blaster rifle to point at my thin armor covering my chestplates. I quickly scrambled on my feet to salute him for fear of him actually coming through with his threat, as I knew he would.

"Sir yes sir!" and I was off again, throwing one last, apologizing glance at my fallen comrade-in-arms, still screaming on the ground, face-down and totally alone. My spark wrenched painfully. _This isn't right._ I turned and ran. _Remember the mission. Always remember the objectives._ It wasn't an objective to have the whole group survive, so it didn't matter, didn't matter…

I re-focused my optics to the true objective of our mission – we were tasked to retrieve a piece of machinery for the Constructicons to finish their latest project. It was essential for Lord Megatron's plan to overthrow the Council once and for all, to throw the army off balance and secure us a steady income of energon, to boot. Failure was not an option. I released a vicious snarl, baring my denta in a hideous grimace that I imagined looked more like a mask of death than the face of a young femme from the streets. I lunged forward once more, determined to get the piece of metal, whatever it would later be used for. I had another reason, too, for wanting to reach it first. There was supposedly a great prize for the one able to bring it to base and since the life in the 'Con ranks wasn't exactly a picnic, I was feeling like getting a little prize for once.

Dodge, run, weave, return fire… a dance with death itself was still going on.

I was only a few steps from the prize when a big mech jumped in front of me.

"Oh no, you don't!" he cackled and attempted to skewer me onto a sharp metal pole he carried with him. Twisting my body expertly to the right I easily evaded the rough attack, launching my counter attack not an astrosecond later, and my aim, as usual, was true and struck home, rewarding me immediately with a splatter of energon on my already stained armor.

"AAAAH!!!" he screamed as my claws tore through his vital circuitry, wrecking havoc in his abdomen. Retracting my claws, I leapt over his falling body and towards the prize so close. My objective was to reach and recover the piece of metal, and it was unimportant if I happened to kill one of the enemies or not in the process.

As soon as my claws circled around the metal and secured my grip, sirens started to wail like all Pit had decided to join the energon-fest. I, naturally startled by the sudden noise, nearly jumped out of what little armor upgrades I'd been given. My senior officer, just a few paces behind me, stood up for all to see.

"Okays, that concludes today's training. Cadet," he nodded at me, "you've earned your prize: you may dine with us officers tonight. As for the rest of you hunks of junk, get out of my sight, and don't hole yer breaths when waiting for your evening rations – they ain't coming! If you don't succeed, you fail, and if you fail, YOU GET NOTHING!!!"

Oh, that's gonna make me popular, I thought as I watched the scorned faces of my fellow cadets, slowly filing out of the huge under-ground hangar that served as our practice area. I glanced at the "important piece of machinery", which was actually a piece of scrap-metal, too bended and banged to be used for anything else except maybe as something to throw at an offending Autobot – or a 'Con, if they pissed me off enough. I sneered at it and tossed it over my shoulder casually.

As I'd already stated, a perfectly normal day in the life of a 'Con cadet. I cast a quick glance at the still moaning mechs that had been injured during the practice. The one I downed was still and quiet, probably in stasis. I vaguely wondered what would happen if I'd accidently killed him. I very nearly laughed out loud. If I knew my superior officers at all, the sadistic bastards would probably give me a medal. I couldn't hide the slightly disgusted face at the thought from my senior. He let his arm fall on my shoulder, making me sag forward a bit from the sudden additional weight on my neck. Before I got the chance to gather myself again, he started talking. But, it seemed to me that he thought I'd made the face because I was worried about the other cadets.

"Don't bother yourself with those who fall, cadet. It's war we're going to, there're no second chances. Those who fall behind are left so, remember that."

I shook my head. "But wouldn't they be more useful alive, rather than dead or in the hands of the Autobots?" This earned me a barking laugh.

"I like the way you think, femme!" he laughed, making me frown. That wasn't exactly how I'd intended my message to be understood… "But," he sobered, "you must remember this, cadet. I'll only say it once, so you better listen real carefully." He took my shoulders into his hands and stared straight into my optics intently, as if trying to see through them to my spark. "We are trying something that only strong mechs and femmes can attempt, let alone succeed in, as we will. The weak will try, too, but they won't survive. Think about it this way: when we are done, we will only have good, strong mechs and femmes left. Think of all the possibilities then! Why, we could conquer the whole universe with our superior race of strong fighters!" There was a glint in his optics that told me enough of him to figure out he wasn't quite right in the CPU. He seemed to take notice of me again.

"Now, let us go and feast, as the warriors that we are! You are now worthy of it, too."

As he dragged me to the officers' mess hall, I came to a conclusion despite my off-balance state.

I'd gotten myself into a mess so big I wasn't sure I'd get out of it. What's more, the only way to survive, which had always been my main principle in life, through the whole mess was to play the game their way. My optics narrowed.

They wanted strong? Ooooh, I'd pound them all to Pit and back, that's how strong I am! I, Cripplerip, risen from the ashes of a once proud and just civilization!

I squared my shoulders and adapted a determined expression on my face, and mentally prepared myself to shove strong all over my officers.

_***(Thirty orns later)***_

*knock knock*

"Come in."

I waited for the door to swoosh open fully before entering. I gave a swift salute and remained silent until the big, silver mech sitting behind the desk looked up. His optics, demanding, bore into mine.

"Well?"

I reached into subspace, and then proceeded to throw an energon-covered, almost cubic looking piece of metal on the table. He cocked an optic ridge in response, but betrayed nothing else of his mind through his carefully guarded body-language. I took it as my cue to explain.

"The last member of the Council is dead, Lord Megatron."

"And my brother?"

I cringed inwardly, as I'd dreaded this moment.

"My Lord, it seems that our informant was not quite as well-informed as we thought he was. I got some information out of our dear late Counselor before the Matrix called him back. Optimus Prime cancelled the whole meeting nearly an orn ago. I believe the reason was to help with a quarrel against your forces near Kaon."

I expected an outrage, flying furniture or a fusion cannon, but got nothing. He just sat there.

"Pity."

That wasn't Megatron's voice.

I looked over his shoulder and spotted a lithe, almost Seeker-like frame. A femme.

This time Megatron growled.

"What is, Thunderblast?" he sounded almost reluctant to ask, like he didn't really want to know what was a pity according to the femme Commander. Thunderblast chuckled.

"She's quite attractive, as I've heard. A little too thin, perhaps, but nothing that extra armor won't fix."

Thunderblast, the resident femme Commander and, more importantly, Megatron's lover. I would have to tread carefully. She wasn't known for her total sanity and reason, to put it lightly. If she saw me as a threat in any way, I was slagged.

My new battle computer that I got after I was promoted from a cadet to an assassin-in-training some vorns ago told me that the best course of action in the view of self-preservation was to get my aft out of there. Unfortunately I couldn't just leg it with both of my Commanders present. That just wouldn't do.

Megatron shifted and placed his fore-arms on the table before addressing me.

"Speaking of additional armor, do you remember the schematics of the new protoforms you scavenged from Alpha Trion's labs?"

Did I? How could I forget?! The whole mission was an embarrassing disaster, even if it was a success in the end. I'd gotten in without much trouble, seeing as it was only a regular house with the lab in the first floor. I'd laughed – this would be easy.

Famous last words, anyone?

As soon as I had touched the cabinet in which the schematics were, all Pit broke loose and danced on my aft.

First I got a virus, I still don't know where or how, that made my body spontaneously twitch, sometimes in directions it wasn't built to twitch or generally move in. When I got the lock open (picking a lock is exceedingly difficult if your hand is fragging around while you try to do some delicate work), I had barely enough time to dodge a laser blast from the ceiling. I had my blaster armed and ready before my feet hit the ground again. I looked up, prepared to see a cannon or some freaky creation of Trion's, but all I got was a lamp. Growling, I blasted it to bits before going back to my work on the schematics, which still lay inside the cabinet, twitching all the way.

I gathered the schematics to my subspace, cursing when a datapad fell from my grasp because of a random twitch and bounced under a counter. I bent down to pick it up when I heard an ominous hissing sound. Before I could move, a spray of cold hit my left leg from behind, from mid-thigh down. I yanked the datapad from under the piece of furniture and, with an INTENTIONAL almighty twitch, threw myself from the cold shower. I stared at my now frozen solid leg in disdain, wondering how the frag Trion got the officials' permission to build a shower of liquid nitrogen into his home. _Brilliant._ I could kiss my stealth good-bye. I was done here, though, so it shouldn't have mattered. I only had to get out.

Haha. _Only_. Because it really was that easy, right?

I started to hobble my way to the door leading outside, careful and wary of my surroundings. Then my audios picked up a suspicious whine that couldn't be coming from the fading shower of nitrogen (maybe it ran out of stuff to spew at innocent by-standers) because it came from the wrong direction.

It came from my both sides.

_Oh slaaaaag… _I hurled my twitchy, half-frozen body forward just in time – the place where I'd stood only an astro-second before was peppered with real-round bullets. But it didn't matter: the door was right in front of me, beckoning me to freedom and the dark streets of the sleeping city. Only a few more steps, and –

_BOJOINGGGG!_

"**FRAAAAAAAAAGGGH!**" I screamed as my body was abruptly thrown back to Pit by what appeared to be a giant version of a trampoline or something related. I was a bit too busy flying to really take notice of it.

I crash-landed a couple of astro-seconds later in an ungraceful heap, and after I'd gathered my wits about me again, I realized I'd landed in a pile of what appeared to be some tools and weird gizmos that I'd never seen before. I was apprehensive, so I quickly gathered my struts and removed them from the pile in record time. _Okay, so that way is obviously – and painfully, one might add – blocked. How about a window then? _I asked myself and turned to the nearest one. I took one step closer and was nearly crushed by a rectangular piece of ceiling that dropped to the ground with an audible crash. I winced, refusing to think that I could have been mistaken as a pile of random sheet-metal had I taken a couple of more steps.

_So maybe not that way,_ I thought, quenching my rising panic. I'd never had so much trouble before, and for my credit, it should be said that I'd already finished off a couple of the old Council members. Suddenly I heard a noise. It was laughter. It was also a ridiculously bad quality, and I didn't even have to think if it was recorded or not (and it was), but the way it sounded was so demented that it made shivers run down my spine, tough as I may be.

I was really starting to get freaked out by this retarded funhouse… I was told that Trion was an accomplished scientist, and that he had some rather peculiar traits in his personality, but no one bothered telling me about his sick sense of humor, or managed to mention that he rigged his home with potentially fatal traps and toys! For an experienced saboteur and assassin, this was supposed to be an easy fetch-it mission, slaggit! And here I was, panicking away because some 1000-and-something-year-old record was laughing at me!

I was just about to collect my wits again to come up with a fool-proof plan on how-to-get-away-from-Trion's-lab-without-off-lining when a HOOONK!!! sounded close to my audios. All my careful training and experience went straight out the window and I just _**ran**_ away from it all.

I don't know how exactly I made it to the base, but when I did, I didn't go and report, as I was maybe supposed to, but I made my way to the med bay in order to see Hook and check if he could do something about my numerous conditions. I received quite a multitude of amused glances and downright laughter as I walked… or more like twitched my way through the hallways, limping my frozen foot. Needless to say, I was taking names on the mechs and femmes I'd later have to educate about laughing at others' misfortune. Perhaps I could even persuade Hook to duplicate the annoying little virus for me, so I could see how funny it was when someone's arm twitched _back-wards_ from the elbow.

If I was counting on our resident medic to at least have enough respect for me not to make fun of me, I was sorely mistaken, and corrected the moment Hook laid his optics on me. Hook, the fragger, laughed at me for _breems_ before he actually got around to getting the twitchy-virus out and defrosting my leg (I'd long since lost feel of it). The aft still sometimes cackles when he sees me…

Oh yes, how could I forget…?

"Yes, sir, I do remember those schematics. Vividly," I added in a moment of annoyance and bravery. I didn't really care about the danger I put myself into with that – I was one of the best assassins in training that he had, he wouldn't off-line me for something that trivial. Crazy as he sometimes was, he wasn't, by any means, a stupid mech. I was, though, hoping to Primus above, if he still listened to me, that my Commander didn't know of my misfortunes. He smiled evilly.

"Oh, yes, I thought you might. I've heard your condition upon returning to base was rather… unique. Something unexpected happened?"'

Slaggit. No such luck. I forced myself to remain calm against the rising tide of annoyance and humiliation.

"I'd imagine so, sir. Alpha Trion, old as he is, can be rather… resourceful." I wondered vaguely if Trion was actually a 'Con in hiding. He certainly was twisted enough!

Megatron chuckled. Why did everyone laugh at me these days? I was an assassin, cabable of putting down a mech – permanently – with both my hands and feet tied! Didn't that count for anything???

"Yes, well, those schematics and calculations of his have proven to be very useful to the cause, despite their slightly damaged state." Usually a phrase like that was almost a promise of something good, maybe and extra ration of energon, or a few shifts free. This time, however, I was a bit skeptic about that. My abdomen was almost cramping from giving me danger signals, but I could see nothing wrong in the picture. I looked at him more closely. His elbows were resting on the desk, but his hands were in front of his face, fingers intertwined, and he leered at me over them. He did look menacing, but this was the mech that killed his own family single-handedly, bar his younger brother, who by some miracle managed to survive. It was normal for him to look menacing. Still…

He spoke again. "Do you know what you stole, exactly?"

"No, sir, I know they were schematics to some newer model protoforms, but that's it," I answered truthfully. His leer widened, and he was smiling like he knew something I didn't, something I'd like to – and really, really hate to – know.

"Correct, but unfortunately, those logs were too damaged to be of any use. However," he continued lazily, almost enjoying to see me just stand there and wait for my judgment, "the logs before that were up-grades for the earlier protoforms, such as yourself. Hook has run some tests on Autobot prisoners, and his experiments have proven to be successful. Now it is time to put this newly discovered technology in action, for the Decepticon cause. You, assassin, have been chosen from all our warriors to bear the new technology as the first one ever to receive these up-grades."

I could only stand there, staring at my superiors like they'd just announced their deep affection to our enemies and expressed their desire to hold hands and sing of peace and love. I was paralyzed, and felt like my CPU had spontaneously contracted a virus that made everything surreal and nearly impossible to process, let alone understand. I could hardly ventilate enough air through my systems to keep me from overheating. And for the whole time, my two commanding officers only smiled at me maliciously.

Thunderblast, finally tired of my unresponsiveness, shifted.

"Well? Do you accept our gracious offer?"

I knew exactly what saying 'no' meant. No one declined a "request" or an "offer" from these two. It was basically the same as saying "Yes, I'd like you to rip me open, grab my spark-chamber, hold it in front of my faceplates and then make me eat it." Not considered healthy in any company, my guess would be, if I ever was asked.

I looked at my superiors more closely to detect any sign that they had suddenly, unexpectedly and very much illogically wanted to pull a practical prank like this on me. I saw no such indication, to my instant despair.

_So,_ I thought to myself grimly, _this is it. If you still want to answer, Crips, you'd better talk fast, because you know how they dislike waiting._ As if on cue, Megatron growled softly.

"Soldier… Assassin… State your answer!"

He meant business, it didn't take a rocket scientist or a psychologist to tell that, so I quickly made up my mind.

Squaring my shoulders and raising my right hand into a salute, I replied: "Yes, sir. It shall be my honor, sir." His answering grin was as cold as the void of space, and just as empty of feeling.

"Good. Hook is waiting in the special medical examination quarters, meet him there immediately. The procedure is long, and the recovery even longer. I want you to report back to me in exactly three vorns."

"Sir, yes, sir!" I saluted again, while my processor was screaming at me. Three vorns for _RECOVERY_?! His denta glinted as he grinned.

"Dismissed."

_***(An unknown amount of time)***_

"…-nd make sure she stays that way. Scrapper, give me that h-…"

_***(An unknown amount of time)***_

"…-k! Hook! She's dropping!"

"Slaggit, get the wires! Don't let her go off-…!"

_***(An unknown amount of time)***_

"You FOOL! This is delicate work, you moron! You clip those wires together even _once_ and she's gone…!"

_***(An unknown amount of time)***_

"He's obsessed with this…"

"I know, but I think it's orders from above. Do you think…?"

_***(An unknown amount of time)***_

"…-h! Oh, ooh… Nh, d-do yo-ah! D'you think… this is okay with her he-aaaaar…?"

"Don't give a frag. Now open up, I want to…-"

_***(An unknown amount of time)***_

"…-he ready yet?"

"My apologies, but she needs more time. There were some unexpected… complications. This may not be the best way to do this…"

"She'd better get up soon, it's been almost seven…!"

_***(An unknown amount of time)***_

"Is she finally recovering?"

_***(An unknown amount of time)***_

"… should just un-plug her, she's as good as off-line… A failed experiment, Hook, and you know it."

"My responsibility, Longhaul, not yours, so _back off_ before I …!"

_***(An unknown amount of time)***_

"… finally picking up. Perhaps she's ready?"

"I'll give it a few more cyc-…"

_***(An unknown amount of time)***_

"…-ke up, femme. Wake up. It's time to face the world as a newly born warrior… Can you tell me your designation?"

"…Cripplerip."

NEWS

Oh my God, that was long! When I was making the draft for this thing, I just thought that, hmm, that's gonna be a lot to write… But 19 pages in Word? What?!?!?! Even my real-story chaps are just a dozen or so long, though I suspect the next one will be a monster like this one… Anyway, next time, when this freak uploads, we'll see how our, hmm, should I say heroine (NOT THE DRUG) meets her future spark-mate, and things will start to get a bit more complicated. I'm actually quite proud of the whole network of happenings that will connect bit by bit in the stories. Anyway, the next chapter is called: _**Dark Embrace **_and it probably will have some adult themes (graphic), if I feel confident enough about what comes out. It'll be my first time writing stuff like that, so I'm not sure I'll put it there. Of course, my opinion can be swayed in one direction or another with a simple message… ;) Just teasing, although I will respect any and all opinions on the matter.

There will be one more one-shot with Crips after the next one, so she gets a three-shot, since she's a pretty important character, and well… You'll see what makes her so damn special.

R&R is inspiring to us writers (if I still can be called one, despite my inactivity), so if you have the time, please drop me a short notice and tell me what you liked/didn't like!


	3. A Spark's Mission

Okays, here goes again… The second part of the Cripplerip trilogy of short stories. This takes place a while after the operation she had, after the war broke out, but well before Tyger Pax and the destruction of the youth sectors.

**Disclaimer:** I own Cripplerip and the plot, as well as Stitch. The other dudes and dudettes belong to Hasbro and their buddies. Lucky bastards, eh…?

* * *

Summary: **Cripplerip, the number one assassin of the Decepticon faction. Age: 596 Earth years, time: about 20 Earth years before the destruction of the youth sectors. Cripplerip has been transformed into a top of the line assassin by Hook, after her success in killing the remains of the High Council, with the help of the schematics she stole from Alpha Trion. She now leads the Special Ops, and is about to get sent to a mission that will change her world forever – and seal her fate.**

* * *

**Cripplerip**

Dodge, fire, run run run dodge firerundodgekillstabtakecover… The same routine hadn't changed even with the beginning of the war. A Decepticon's job was to get the job done, no matter if it cost the life of the mech next to you in the transport vehicle, the life of your sibling, or your very own. I knew that, and that's what made me such a terror in the battlefield. I didn't give a slag who died. If someone was in my way, he, or she, would quickly make way. Or I would walk through them – literally.

It had been over 30 vorns since Hook and his underlings transformed me into a machine fit to kill a Prime. _The_ Prime, I should say. I hadn't gotten a chance at it, though. But I was patient. I had time… The mech would die, for what his folk did to my family.

Rather than let myself be distracted by my quickly darkening mood, I took my feelings out on the next mech stupid enough to cross my path. He fell down screaming, clutching the place where his face used to be. Hook would have to do some intensive repairs if that mech got to keep his optics.

I didn't even bother wiping my claws clean, instead focusing my mind on the mission. There was the objective, a small, glinting piece of metal, guarded by four sturdy mechs, cowered behind large boulders to keep the worst of the fire out. I grimaced.

_Cowards_.

Lunging forward, I used my increasing momentum to jump over a couple of unlucky slaggers that were even foolish enough to just stand there and watch me sail through the air. I paid them no mind, knowing that some mechs from my team were hot on my trail. They'd take care of the ogling duo if they knew what was best for them. Sure enough, just as my feet touched the ground, the guards were shot in the back, and they fell down, motionless. I didn't care – at least my team was on alert and ready to take any chances they were given. As they should be.

I turned to assess the situation on our objective. A couple of mechs from my team tried to make a break for the thing, but they were shot. _Idiots_, I grimaced again. Then I felt like outright screaming my frustration at the incompetence of the mechs as two of the _defenders_ jumped up and high-fived each other, whooping victoriously. I released a snarl.

"Celebrate only when you have the victory in your hands…" I yelled, taking off and running for them. They looked at me and if they could have, they would have paled. The other two, more levelheaded mechs opened fire on me. I dodged it with relative ease and launched myself to the wall over their heads and stuck there using my claws as hooks, making them lose their aim completely. Then, with another energon-stopping snarl, I let myself drop on them. It was over fast, and the four were on the ground, holding on to whatever body part I'd chosen to tear apart. I snorted and calmly walked over to the piece of metal. I grabbed it, turned around and released a victorious roar, signaling the end of the "mission".

The mechs ceased their firing and looked at me for further instructions. Fragging incompetent glitch-mice. How did I get stuck with the task of trying to make _this_ lot real Decepticons again? Oh yeah, Megatron's idea… Right… I refused to purge my tanks in front of the miscellaneous gathering of random programming errors and instead gave them my best glare. Many of the mechs flinched, giving me a certain dark sense of satisfaction.

_Fraggin' right, fear me you slagheap rejects…_

"I'm disappointed in you today," I breathed out, narrowing my optics. "The so-called defenders couldn't have shot me even if I'd stayed still and tried to _catch_ the plasma-rounds and missiles that you launched. What was your tactic, shoot and hope that the so-called Autobots act nice and get _in front of the shot_ to make you _feel good_? Do you think the Autobots will just _ask_ you to shoot them?! You useless pieces of waste shouldn't even call yourselves Decepticons! You aren't worthy!" I screamed, making them cower and raise their arms to protect their hands from the blows they were expecting. I'd have hit them, yes, if I had had the time, but I had to give some constructive feed-back to my own team as well.

"And YOU then!" I whirled around, my anger rising up a notch as I spotted a couple of the mechs laughing at their unfortunate "enemies". "You are _pathetic_! I felt like I was leading a flock of fraggin' _sparklings_ through a park! The few idiots brave enough to try and take the lead were shot down because of their lack of attention!" I snorted. "I hope, for your sakes, that this war ends before any of you will reach the battlefields. You aren't even worth the cannon fodder that you tried oh, so valiantly be!" I took a careful look at the twenty-something mechs stationed in my group, and resisted the urge to purge my tanks for the umpteenth time that cycle.

"You are all a disgrace to the proud name of the Decepticons! This is war, little _femlings_, and I don't have the time or the patience to risk my life for yours in battle against the Autobots. If you were looking for the youngling-sectors for some femme to look after you and fraggin' change your sparkling-armor, then here's a newsflash you might want to consider: _This isn't the right address_! My job is to make you suffer until you feel no more pain, to train you until you can attack the Autobot base and emerge victorious even when you're deep in recharge, to keep pushing and pushing you until you can no longer move – and then push you more! DISMISSED!" I bellowed and watched as they tripped over one another to get away from there. When they were all gone, I commed Hook.

'_What the frag do you want, I'm busy!'_ I was so not listening to his bull-slag today.

'_I wouldn't want __a frag from you even if you were the last living Cybertronian, mech or femme, in existence, Hook. You disgust me. But your medics might want to take a look at training area 6, there's a couple of downed mechs, three might lose their optics if you don't get your aft in here in time.'_

'_Fragging glitch, I told you to stop ripping our mechs apart! I don't know what you have against your trainees, but they are entrusted to you, you should take care of their safety -'_

'_Shove it up Scrapper's exhaust, it needs a flush anyway. I'm an assassin, not a nanny. They are supposed to become the elite special ops of the 'Cons, and I'll fragging turn them to the same killing machines that you turned me into, Hook. It's going to be either that, or I'll kill them in the attempt.'_

'_Them, not yourself, huh? How do you think they feel about that? Not happy, I'm sure.'_

'_You know what? I find myself feeling rather indifferent about that. Now get your trainees and yourself here, or I will personally report to Soundwave that you decided to ignore a medical situation, making us lose mechs he specifically picked out, just because you were having a bitchy femme-fit.'_

'_This is not my fault, you were the one who tore their optics out in the first place!'_

'_That may be, but you were the medic who decided not to do anything about it. Cripplerip out.'_

I severed the connection before the fragger could come up with a decent retort, something that was fairly rare for him anyway. Despite what I said to him, and what he said back, we were living in a mutual understanding of sorts. I always needed his services as the best medic of the whole army and only he knew all the details of my frame and its workings, and he was happy giving me those services because he was getting profits on every successful mission I pulled. After all, he was the one who made me this way, and even though Megatron wasn't always fair, he did give credit to those who deserved it. He was pleased with my progress, and Hook wasn't shy on riding the flow of it at all.

I was making my way to the rec room with nothing better to do when a junior officer practically pounced in my way. I gave him a glare, and he hesitated a little before he opened his mouth to address me.

"Cripplerip, Ma'am, Lord Megatron is requesting your presence immediately. He says it is important."

I couldn't hide my contempt, which only earned me more cowering.

"First of all, Lord Megatron never requests. He orders. Second of all, if he _orders_ something, it is _always_ of utmost importance. Third of all," I began, measuring my words carefully before grabbing his chestplates and pulling him down to my level, leaning close to his audio and dropping my voice to a whisper, "if you, even once more, come to me and look like a scared little Autobot, I will treat you as such."

He tore away from me, casting a couple of scared glances over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner. It wasn't a secret that I never took prisoners when infiltrating Autobot bases, and the mechs knew that I didn't make empty threats. Made life easier for me, that…

I chuckled at his retreating aft. That was too easy.

Then I sobered, changing my course to the Command Center. If Megatron wanted me there, it was important. Even though I was the top assassin now, after my predecessor met his untimely deactivation after he was found out infiltrating the Autobot base, curse his inadequate spark, I almost never saw our Commander in person. I was more with Thunderblast, who had appointed me as her third some vorns ago. My missions were given to me via Soundwave, and it was to him that I reported after each mission was done.

I opened a comm. link to him, knowing he'd give me an answer to my question. He trusted me as a soldier, and so didn't hesitate to give me information when I asked for it.

Nicely.

With a 'please' included.

And when it didn't conflict with his, or Megatron's goals.

'_Soundwave, this is Cripplerip. What's the meeting about then?'_ I could guess he'd be present, he always was anyway… So he'd know. I wouldn't have been surprised to find out that he'd have known about the whole damn meeting before it was issued in the first place. _Fragging telepath slagger_, I thought to myself, but without true resentment. He was a good mech, better than most of the scumbags that called themselves officers.

He acknowledged.

'_Meeting's purpose: your next mission,'_ came his usual monotonous reply. I frowned.

'_I don't need a parade when I go out, nor do I need all the officials to know the details. The less the others know of my missions the better. If one of those incompetent fools gets caught with information that's too delicate, our whole cause could be forfeit. You know it even better than I do, Soundwave,' _I argued. I'd always hated big meetings, greatly preferring Soundwave's usual style of calling me at a random hour in the middle of my recharging cycle to tell me that I had to depart for a practical suicide mission in the next breem.

'_Your point: true, but unimportant. Orders from Megatron. Suggestion: remember your place in war.'_

His reply was clipped and with flat-lining emotion, as usual, but it held a warning undertone, one that only a trained mech or femme could hear, or someone who knew Soundwave, at least to an extent. I was lucky I was in both groups. But even then…

Pit, I'd worked with the mech for the last 30 vorns, and I still couldn't really read him! Slagger was a sly one, I had to give him that much credit.

'_Alright, alright, Soundwave, don't blow a gasket. I'll be there. ETA one minute. Cripplerip out.'_

'_Soundwave acknowledges. Out.'_

I sighed and lengthened my stride to meet my self-appointed dead-line. Soundwave was nothing if not precise, and expected it from others as well. So far, I hadn't come up short in his expectations, and I certainly wasn't about to start now.

I didn't even bother glancing at whatever mishap miscreants crawled in the hallways, walking with a dead-set face and my whole body-language screaming something along the lines of "Get outta my face or I'll stick something inappropriate and painful in your aft". I got quite a few nasty glares sent my way as well, but I scoffed at them. I knew that there were some mechs and/or femmes in the vicinity that would like nothing more than to stab me dead during the rare breems when I recharged. I also knew no one would have the bearings to try it. Cowards. This whole miserable excuse for a military base was just overflowing with them today…

I rounded the last corner and almost ran into Hook. I glared at him. He wasn't supposed to be here, he was supposed to be taking care of the mechs I downed!

"You really are trying to kill my underlings, aren't you, you slagger?" I asked in a conversational tone, folding my arms and tapping my foot on the floor. I barely took note of the femme medic by him, looking like she didn't know how to react to my statement. I vaguely recognized her from the med bay, I think she went by the name Stitch. Hook knew me, however, and wasn't impressed.

"It would certainly make my day, but I have _actual_ work to do. In case you didn't notice it yet, the meeting you too were going to attend to, judging by your direction, is meant for all the officers. Also including the CMO of the whole Decepticon army, also known as yours truly," he finished with a neat, albeit a pointedly false, bow. I released an amused sound somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff. He glanced at me. "As for your underlings, they are under Longarm's tender care." I outright laughed at him.

"_Longarm_?! You put _Longarm_ in charge of a delicate optic-surgery?" I let loose another string of barking laughter. "I'll be lucky if I get enough of my men back to send a memento to their families!"

He chuckled. "That might happen, yes. Tragic, isn't it? Be sure to send my regards to the grieving ones."

"Absolutely…" I replied, still chuckling as we entered the large, circular room dedicated to war-meetings and planning. I personally thought of it as Megatron's personal playground – the mech liked to feel like he had a lot of power, which he did, and loved to show it off as well. The huge throne-like chair positioned in the middle of the room was a bit over-doing it though.

The room was already almost full, and I had to take a seat next to Soundwave's twin terrors, Rumble and Frenzy. The mechs were hilarious, but I couldn't understand why Soundwave insisted on taking them to these meetings. They had a shorter attention span than a one-cell organic when it came to planning something other than pranks. Both were much, much too eccentric to be able to be of use here. Hook found a place for himself near Starscream and the other high-in-commands, making himself comfortable and making sure to take as much room from Starscream as he could without endangering his precious armor.

"… but seriously, Rumble, you have to admit, Cliffie is a lot more fun to antagonize than that spaz-tastic Blurr!"

"Are you mad? Cliffjumper is hilarious when he gets pissed off, but I personally find Mr. Too-Fast-Not-So-Furious beyond compare when he gets into his Autobot savior mode. I swear to Primus _and_ Unicron, in the last battle I almost off-lined myself laughing at him! He was tripping over himself trying to get something said, I'm surprised he didn't overheat from the sheer over-use of his voice box!" Rumble cackled and made a poor attempt at mimicking the Autobot speedster. I rolled my optics at their antics, feeling not for the first time that day like I was not an officer in the army, but rather a sparkling sitter in some corner of the youth sectors. _Sweet Primus, give me patience… but do it fast!_ I prayed before I heard someone shift to the middle of the room.

"Silence!" Starscream's unmistakable screech nearly blew the audios off of half the officers present. I grimaced, but I knew that some mechs were having even more problems with his rather unique voice. My audios were sensitive, yes, that was a requirement for an assassin if he or she wanted to make a long, successful career. But then there were some other mechs, my optics drifting to Soundwave and Ravage, his first creation, that possessed audios so acute that they could hear basically the sound the air made as it moved quietly through the corridors. I was glad neither of the two had a facial expression they could show to tell their discontentment.

Of course, the whole room had gone quiet at the second-in-command's demand. He was looking around with a strange, smug gleam in his optics. _If the fragger's proud that we can't take his hideous voice, he has even more problems than I thought he did_, I thought to myself and shook my head with a sigh. Beneath our higher position, the egoistic Seeker puffed out his chest and proceeded to make a show out of himself. Nothing new under the stars there…

"Does anyone happen to know where our great and illustrious leader is hiding?" he asked, not expecting an answer and not getting any. He gave a theatratical sigh before continuing: "I find it quite strange that he calls us all here for a meeting, interrupting our other _duties_ and _work_, and then _fails_ to show his own face-plates!" He looked around, and I gave a mental groan. Oh, I could see where this one was going… Then he said the magic words that always lead to him having his nose-plate crushed to his CPU.

"If _I_ were the leader of the Decepticons…"

"… I'd turn Autobot in a nano-second," Frenzy whispered to Rumble, earning a whispered "Ooooh" from his twin creation, making them both cackle madly as Starscream started working up his rant on what-ifs and what-not.

I tuned them all out immediately while determinedly shoving down the urge to bury my face in my hands and scream, focusing on what Soundwave could have in store for me. He disliked giving information in front of large groups as much as I hated to receive it, so why in the Pit would he do it now? Unless it was direct orders from Megatron, of course. Anything Megatron said was the truth for Soundwave.

He wasn't stupid, that's not what I'm saying. He wasn't even one of the fanatical followers who volunteered to go and try to get rid of the Prime "in the glorious name of the Decepticon cause", like for example that Skywarp character that always trailed behind Starscream. I personally found it hilarious that someone so loyal to Megatron would actually be a direct underling of Starscream, who tried to usurp the place of the leader at least three times a cycle! It made me wonder how they didn't kill each other, when their worlds were so far apart.

In battle, however, they and the third Seeker, Thunder-… cracker? Yes, Thundercracker, made up the most terrifying trine in the sky. They were responsible for every devastating air strike we had managed to make so far. As much as I hated to say it, they were the best at what they did. But only together, and only, _only_ in battle. I knew a little bit about the Seekers myself, and I had a feeling they never truly completed the trine-bond that usually existed between a trine.

No wonder why the "cone-head" Seekers were so sour about their lower position!

My thoughts turned to my enemies after I realized that Starscream was still raving about his so-called better leadership. It made me sick how the Autobots had managed to get up even after our grand assault right in the beginning of the war. Megatron had said that there would be no real war, that the thing we did was a simple revolution that would only take one grand battle, that would either kill the High Council and Sentinel Prime or make them see the error of their ways, that the whole up-rising would only take a couple of cycles.

Primus in a through-rusted bucket of scrap-heap reject slag. He couldn't have been more wrong.

All in all, the only thing we did manage to do was scatter the High Council and kill Sentinel. But even then, the Autobot military managed to push us back out of the cities and to the underground slums we inhabited, blasting the doorways to unrecognizable pieces of molten steel and titanium. The attack had been a surprise yes, but their fire-power was so much stronger, and their soldiers well-fed, recharged and in top condition, perfectly trained, that our makeshift army had nothing to say about it. We'd celebrated victory, however. The High Council was either dead or in hiding, and Sentinel Prime had left no heir to success him.

Logically, the Autobot army would fall apart at the seams, right?

Hah. Bullslag. A load of it.

Sentinel, the fragger, had had a son after all. Not a son of his own, but an adopted one. And from what I could determine, he was a descendant of the true Prime lineage as well. I didn't know if he knew it, if the Autobots did, if the 'Cons did… even if Megatron did. I didn't know.

I did know, however, that Megatron was the older brother of this new Prime, and so he was of the Prime lineage as well. I also happened to know that he hadn't managed to kill the mechling, he was barely a youngling, with sparkling-like trust for his brother. He'd cried as Megatron had struck the last blow to end Sentinel's reign, and hadn't moved a cable even as his brother descended towards him with all the intentions of killing his baby brother. It had almost been too much for me to watch as I'd sat on my perch in one of the ruined buildings…

_I smiled cruelly as I saw the big body of Sentinel Prime slump down, the light of his optics leaving them forever. It was over. He would never bother the red-opticed folk again. His executioner wasn't in a good condition himself, but he was grinning victoriously before a high-pitched scream tore the air about him._

_It was the youngling that we'd observed with the Prime and/or his closest friends and advisors on many occasions. He couldn't have been older than maybe eight or nine orns, he was so small… The sky-blue youngling-armor was dirty and in some places scorched, but he looked to be alright, apart from being scared out of his tiny processor. Then he spotted my commander, and I nearly fell from my hide-out out of sheer surprise as I heard his scream and the words within._

"_Brother! Why did you kill him? He was my father!"_

_Megatron growled. "He got exactly what he deserved," he said, once again powering up his fusion cannon and turning fully to his younger sibling."As will you." I knew then that the youngling wouldn't live for another breem, and felt a twinge of grief wring at my spark at the loss. I had to turn my optics away. I simply couldn't watch a sparkling get killed._

_Even though I had absolutely no qualms about killing mechs and femmes in their recharge cycle, I would never hurt a youngling. They were precious. They were whatever future we still had left.__e He He __So when I saw the Autobot weapons specialist making his way through the rubble towards where his commander had fallen, I couldn't help but give a sigh of relief. The sparkling had hope yet… Nevertheless, I opened a comm. link to Megatron._

'Sir, their weapons specialist, a big black mech, designation Ironhide, is a half a breem away. His cannons look like they're charged.'

'His cannons are always charged. Message acknowledged. Do not engage, I'm almost done here…'_ the rest of the message was a menacing growl. I had done what I could to save the youngling; I wouldn't go against my own commander for one life, even that of a youngling's… I refocused on Ironhide in time to see him look up, almost directly at me. I drew in a sharp gasp and powered down any and all systems unnecessary for my survival, but pouring all the excess energy coursing through me to my cooling systems. If he noticed my heat-signature, I'd be dodging laser-fire for the next ten cycles!_

_Through__ my darkened optics I saw him pause for two painfully slow nano-seconds… and then move on. He climbed over the rubble – and saw his dead commander lying face-down on the ground, and Megatron towering above the youngling. He shouted something just as Megatron's weapon discharged itself._

_I watched him open fire on my commander, but it was already too late. The youngling had been hurt, badly, by __the blast from Megatron's fusion cannon. It hadn't been a good hit, thanks to Ironhide's call making Megatron glance up, but I was still impressed that the youngling was alive. Megatron ordered a retreat and I slinked back, noticing more Autobots pouring to the area. I had to get away…_

I shuddered a little, realizing had dozed off. It appeared I hadn't missed anything, however, with how the mechs and femmes were quietly talking to each other, giving Starscream a nod or two every once in a while to keep him occupied and his voice at bearable decibels. I checked m chronometer and was vaguely impressed. Megatron was almost fifteen breems late, and Starscream had been shrieking the whole time. His vocalizer was putting up with the strain remarkably well.

I couldn't hide the sadistic smile forming on my face as I saw the doors swoosh open behind 'Screamer. He didn't notice anything, even as the imposing form of my commander cast a shadow over him, too concentrated on his accusations and promises. The femme commander was there as well, but she stood back, letting her lover take care of this.

A stole a look at Soundwave. I knew that he held a contempt much stronger than mine against our second-in-command, and that every time he got publicly beaten into shutting his overgrown mouth for treacherous actions, the communications officer was… pleased. Very, very pleased.

"… and on TOP of that, _when_ I take the throne of the Decepticons, we will make no more stupid mistakes the likes of which have cost us the course of this war, mistakes that could've been avoided, but weren't because of that slagging, half-bit-rate, hand-me-down excuse for a -!"

"Starscream, think carefully now, do you really want to finish that sentence…?" came the sweet, soft, deep voice behind Starscream's back. It was doubly menacing because it came from _him_, _he_ was never soft, never quiet or gentle... Starscream froze, and a couple of the mechs snickered. He was in deep slag now, and he knew it, Megatron knew it, we knew it, and Starscream was the only one _not_ enjoying it.

Tragic…

Starscream turned around, mouth left open and ready to spew another volley of his usual aft-kissing that generally followed his tirades, but he never got that far, as Megatron swung a fist in his face-plates, literally flying him to the wall.

"You have to stop that, Starscream, before you lose something you might need later – like your head," he growled softly, walking over and grabbing his second and flinging him into the wall again. It looked pretty effortless to me, and I was glad not to be on the receiving end of the punishment. From the corner of my optic I could see a couple of mechs shaking hands, either congratulating each other for seeing such a nice spectacle, or making a bet with each other and sealing the deal with the gesture. This was getting ridiculous, and fast. Starscream's desperate wheeze for air diverted my attention from the duo before I could draw my blaster and do some damage.

"M-My Lord! I- gah! I was worried… Where you were and… might've… maybe… overreacted…?" It came out as a question, pathetic even for Starscream, and Megatron growled in disgust. "Ah-I-I-I-I mean that – that maybe you could have been ambu-"

"AMBUSHED?!" Megatron roared, outraged at the idea – or the excuse. "Do you think the Autobots have the resources to attempt an _ambush_?! You idiot, my brother has enough to deal with already, his forces are ridiculously weak and thin-spread, they couldn't attempt an ambush on me even if they wanted to, not if they didn't want us to simply walk straight to Iacon and finish what we began there! Learn the basics of war first, Starscream, and _then_ try to usurp the throne!" and he proceeded to bash Starscream's nasal plate to sheet metal.

Our courageous SIC tried one more time to save himself, naturally by putting the blame on the others, or at least attempting to. "But… But my Lord, the Autobots might have a spy here, a – a traitor!"

Megatron's growl could probably have been heard in the Autobot headquarters in Iacon, halfway across the planet. "The only traitor here would be you, Starscream! I should off-line you, but fortunately for you, I still need your trine to lead my aerial troops. You're lucky you have them – your pitiful existence depends on your success. This doesn't, however, keep me from trashing you if you do gather the bearings to rebel against me!" he bellowed and threw Starscream back to his vacated chair. Hook dived out of the way and sprawled himself on the floor, casting a disguised, sour look at Megatron, who ignored it.

"Does someone else want to question my authority or my prowess in combat? Now would be a good time to voice those concerns," Megatron suggested. I would have bet on the fact that the room was more silent than the lowest levels of the old grave-yards. And I would have probably won the bet. "Good."

He took a seat and motioned for Thunderblast to sit next to him. That's when I noticed another mech in the doorway. He wasn't all that big, nor was he imposing, but he radiated a sense of self-control and coldness, like he didn't give a flying retro-rabbit's rear as to what he had to do – he'd do it, successfully. He stood in a ready stance, the lights of the room glinting off his black and white armor, and I could clearly see that he was a proud mech, but not arrogant like Starscream, in the way he held himself.

Whoever he was, he knew his worth, and showed it off shamelessly.

He also made my spark give a little flip, like he was someone important or I should have known him, even though I was sure I'd never seen the mech in my life before. I shrugged it off. Sparks were strange, and sometimes very disturbing. Almost like a hindrance.

"Now that we've got the trash cleaned away, we should begin our meeting. For those who do not know him, the mech still standing is Barricade," the mech nodded once, still not making optic contact with anyone in the room and maintaining his cold posture, "a security director that has proven his _loyalty_," Megatron cast a nasty look at Starscream, who was holding his head painfully "and his worth in battle in a multitude of occasions. Up until this moment, he has been in the front lines of battle, and has found out that the Autobots have an energon safe in the outskirts of Decagon. This energon safe is the sole energon provider to many Autobot encampments in the area, and when we take it out, those encampments will either have to flee or starve to death."

"Excellent! My trine and I will make an over-flight and blow the place to oblivion!" Starscream cried, eager to regain Megatron's favor. He wasn't successful, as he himself realized when Megatron cast a cold look of warning at him.

"No, Starscream, you won't. The place is so heavily armored and guarded; the only thing you'd accomplish is to kill _two_ perfectly capable fliers. Now, as much as I'd enjoy seeing you get shot down by your idiocy, the loss of Skywarp and Thundercracker would just be too tragic for me to bear," Megatron said, earning a few amused chuckles and sneers from the room, where as Starscream started to almost glow with his humiliation and anger. But he apparently regained his common sense from somewhere and remained silent. Megatron seemed to approve and turned back to his audience.

"Instead, we will make a more subtle approach. Cripplerip…" he said, beckoning me to stand up and come to him. I complied, feeling the twin looks of curiosity from Soundwave's little pranksters, and walked over to Megatron, kneeling before him.

"My Lord."

"You will be the one to carry out this mission. Soundwave will now give you the details of it. As for the rest of you," he turned to the officers looking at me curiously. I hadn't exactly been loud with my rising in the ranks, and some of them had never seen me before.

"This is for you to know: you are looking at a state of the art assassin, modified in structure and capabilities by our CMO. She is the third in command of the femmes now. She's already proven her worth, and I entrust her with the most delicate of tasks, which you lot cannot handle. If something happens to her, and one of you is responsible, be sure to know this: you are all replaceable. She, however, is not, due to her natural talent and abilities, which, I'm sorry to notice, most of you lack. So if someone attempts to pull some kind of a stunt with her, think of the consequences first. They might be… permanent."

He looked at the chamber full of mechs, all of them quiet. I stole a glance at them as well. Some of them looked at me with lust-ridden optics, others with envy. I wasn't worried about either party. I obviously had Megatron's favor on my side, which gave me an advantage against anyone. Also, he'd made it clear that I was of more worth than the others, and that was bound to raise some feelings in one direction or another. I didn't care. I could beat anyone here hands down, and I knew it. I was just sorry for any slagger who didn't, and would perhaps try to get me removed, so to speak, or maybe think that I was "just a femme".

"If there is nothing else to say about this, we will proceed with the information on the mission. Soundwave?" Megatron called somewhat needlessly, since the communications officer was already making his way to a huge projector in the back of the room. He powered it without a word and a picture of a large warehouse-like building was flashed on the empty wall across the room. My optics narrowed. Megatron had been right – the place looked like an armory with how thickly it was protected.

Soundwave, true to his reputation, cut the interlude out and went straight to business mode.

"Base security: high. Base defense mechanisms: protected and guarded in the inner circle of the construction. Weak points: waste dump area and the air channels. Suggested course of action: infiltration through the waste dumps after a distraction through the air channels." I took a step forward, ignoring the mechs in the room. It was my mission now, and I didn't care who was breathing down my neck while I was preparing for it.

"How big are those air channels? The Autobots will expect an attack from the waste dumps, so it would be, to my understanding, unwise to try a nearly direct hit from there."

"Point taken. Air channels: size varies. In military sections: too small to enter. In residential area: perhaps large enough for you." I nodded.

"I'll take my approach from there, then. Where do I enter the system?" The map got a few highlighted areas.

"Possible entering locations: four."

"And which of them lead to the residential areas? Or the recreational?"

Two lights dropped.

"I see. And the defenses around these two? Guards, turrets, mines, sensory…?"

"Northern entrance: next to missile silo. Probability to enter without detection: minimal."

"And minimal is this time exactly how much?" I asked, almost grimacing beforehand.

"14.6873%." I let out an indistinguishable sound.

"And if I do go from there? What will face me then?"

"Four guards at all times. Cameras, energy and heat sensors. Two built-in automated Gatling guns in the wall, connected to the sensors."

I gave him a crooked smile, faking disappointment.

"No mines or missiles?"

"Negative."

"And where do they operate the sensors? Can I disengage them somehow from further away?"

"Negative. Controls and weak points: inside the control room in the center of the complex. Interruption of signal feed outside: impossible."

"Brilliant. Do we have the schedules of the guards?"

"Negative." I growled.

"Fine. What about the other one, then? Is the security as tight as with the other one?"

"Entrance's location: shuttle bay in the south-west corner of the complex. Six stationed guards in control tower at all times. Guard patrols every ten breems. Mine field before the shuttle bay. Anti-air turrets and Gatling guns, laser-powered cannons active at all times. Cameras with heat sensors, movement sensors, no energy sensors."

"Sounds fun. What are the odds of a successful infiltration?"

"6.4329%."

I turned to look at Megatron.

"This is difficult."

"Can you do it?"

"Pff, of course I can. But I need someone to be ready with the pick-up after the mission, preferably with something that won't fall out of the sky if a bullet grazes it. Something that's fast. I won't be able to just slip away."

"Air pick-up impossible," Soundwave interjected.

"Why?"

"Anti-air turrets active at all times."

"Frag, you're right. I'll have to take them out then. We need the results fast, and it won't do if I have to play hide-and-seek with the 'Bots for two cycles in some random canyon." I took a deep breath, trying to figure out a way to get out of there. Then it hit me.

"Soundwave, are the anti-air turrets programmed with friendly fire?"

"Affirmative. Elaborate meaning to question."

_Wouldn't it be easier to just ask 'why'? _I thought to myself but didn't push the subject.

"Since the anti-air turrets are programmed not to fire on Autobot ships, I'll just have to hi-jack one and the air-turrets won't bother me. It'll take the Autobots too long to override the programming to be able to shoot me, if I pick the right ship. And their other guns should be fairly useless – after all, their aircrafts are usually heavily armored since they do fear our Seekers."

Soundwave calculated for a minute. He didn't say it, but it was kind of obvious.

"Your plan: sound. Recommended course of action: take a speeder."

"That's what I was planning on taking. Now, how will I be transported _there_?"

"Shuttle drop-off: fifty decanims south of target."

"Alright, from there on, I'm on my own, yes?" Without waiting for an answer, I went on. "Okay, so I reach the target. The perimeter is secured, I presume. Force field, fencing or patrols?"

"Force field generator: offline due to power failure. Weak fencing, patrols every twenty breems. Loose mine fields, turrets at the entrance points."

I narrowed my optics in concentration. Fraggers really didn't want us in, did they?

"So I need to get through a mine field first, then climb a fence. Not too difficult. Where are the entrance points?"

The lights appeared on the wall again.

"And do they let anyone in? Transports or troops, something?"

"Affirmative."

"Any pattern that we can trust?"

"Energy transport twice a cycle." I smiled, getting an idea.

"They depart with a huge load of energon, yes?"

"Affirmative."

"Do we have the schedule of departure?"

"Why do you need that, femme? Are you going to hitch a ride when they leave with the energon?" a mech from the crowd asked arrogantly, gaining a few laughs. I waited for them to stop, calming Megatron's retort with my gaze and a slight hand gesture saying: I'll handle him.

"Actually, that's the time I planned to go _in_. In case you didn't know, energon tends to blow up quite well with the right provocation, especially when it is the unprocessed version that the place stores, yes?" I got my confirmation from Soundwave and continued. "If I happened to plant a bomb on the transport, and the bomb went off with, oh, I don't know, five or six hundred cubes of unprocessed energon as cargo, then well," I shrugged with an evil grin, "I doubt the Autobots would have the time to look at the air channels all that closely." I was having fun already, planning the mayhem I would cause. I looked at Soundwave again.

"My odds of unnoticed infiltration, presuming that I'll be able to reach the transport in time?"

"84.1453% probability of success in causing a distraction big enough to allow entrance to the base unnoticed," Soundwave droned. I smiled.

"That's what I like to hear. Where do they load the cargo?"

"North-west corner of the complex." My smile dropped a little.

"Hmm, that's going to be interesting then. The northern entrance is blocked, there is simply too much commotion after the explosion. Which leads to me having to enter from the south-west, through the shuttle bay."

"Affirmative."

"Fine, I'll deal with it. So I get to the air channels, largely unnoticed. How do I proceed, Soundwave?"

"Follow the channel. In residential area: exit channel, proceed to the command center. Override vault controls, plant bombs. Vacate area," he added after a pause, and I lifted an optic ridge. Was that an attempt at humor?

"You make it sound awfully easy. What's inside?"

The projector hummed as it threw another picture on the wall, this one of the layout of the base. Soundwave took a step closer.

"Command center: heavily guarded, minimum seven mechs as personnel at all times. Heat, motion and energy sensors, repeater plasma cannons at the entrance, connected to the sensors. Doors triple-layered titanium, enforced with steel. No windows. Code-secured. Second floor of the complex, middle."

Wow. They _really_ didn't want guests!

"Are the sensors EMP resistant? Outside as well?"

"Base: old. EMP-resistance: highly unlikely."

"Well go with that. What about the ceiling?"

Soundwave computed for a moment.

"Simple two-layer titanium, insulation between."

"What's above the command center?"

"Firing range."

"Slag, no way am I going there." Another thought hit me. "The door to the command center. Is it a slide door or does it have hinges?"

"Slide door."

Frag. My claws would be useless, or at least too slow.

"And what is below the command center?"

"Armory."

No entrance there, either. This was starting to get ridiculous. I hoped that Megatron had a reeeeally nice prize for me when I came back.

"We don't have the code, do we?" I asked hopefully.

"Negative."

"I'll have to figure something out, then." I skipped the thing, sure that I could improvise it. Megatron wasn't that trusting, however.

"How do you expect to get in?" he asked impatiently.

"I'm not sure yet. But count on this: I will get in. I will either get the key or the code or whatever, or break the door somehow, perhaps by shutting the power. I don't know yet, but I'll get in, for sure," I assured him, not smiling, just looking like I knew exactly what I was doing. I turned back to Soundwave.

"Alright then. I get to the command center and hack the controls. Where's the vault?"

"Vacate command center and turn right. Third intersection: turn right. Next turn: left. At the end of the hall."

"And the security?"

"Two guards at the door. Nothing before that."

"Good, that shouldn't be too hard. Any other mission objectives after the bombs are placed? Should I try to plunder for information?"

"Neg-"

"Affirmative," Megatron broke Soundwave off. The communications officer remained silent and expressionless. "Get the transmission logs for the last 150 cycles between the storage, the Autobot headquarters in Iacon and all the stations in the area. If you find technology logs, take them as well. And when you are done, attempt to destroy as much of the settlement as possible."

I gave a brisk salute. "Understood."

"You won't be able to do that alone."

I turned on this Barricade character, who'd apparently decided to voice his opinion despite his almost bored stature. I was a bit annoyed at the way he went about it, however.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked as politely as I could. He snorted.

"No matter how big the first distraction is, they will notice you the second you appear in the cameras in the command center. And when you do appear, the mechs in the command center will easily have the time to send an SOS, and then half the base will be dispatched to hunt your sorry aft," he said. Slagger had a point though. As soon as the Autobots would determine that the real trouble was already inside the base, they'd raise a life's worth of trouble for me in a matter of breems. I wouldn't be able to escape from that. Hm. Fragger was a security director alright.

"Hmm, correct. What do you suggest?"

"That this isn't a solo mission. You need a partner so you have time to accomplish your mission, while he or she takes care of the optional missions and draws the fire away from you," he said. His voice was even and undisturbed, like he was examining some kind of a mildly interesting scientific find.

It infuriated me.

"And who, pray tell, is good enough to keep up with me? This isn't a picnic I'm going to have," I said to him, slightly insulted. Before he could answer, Soundwave interjected.

"Barricade: accompany Cripplerip."

I couldn't avoid the scream rising up my throat.

"_WHAT?!?_ What does _he_ know about sabotage? Soundwave, I object!" I was appalled! This newbie was _so_ not coming with me! I'd had enough of sparkling sitting duty already!

"Objection denied. Cripplerip: submit to orders immediately." Soundwave ordered. I growled, but didn't say anything to object anymore. Instead, I spat one last question at him between my denta.

"When do we depart?"

"In five joors."

This day was going down the Pit-coaster real fast.

* * *

**6 joors later, in the shuttle**

I was still steaming from earlier, sitting in the shuttle and glaring at the wall. How dare Soundwave put me on an important mission with a complete nobody? This was ridiculous! I knew that the mission really did require at least two people, but couldn't I have chosen who to take with myself? I would probably have taken one of the back-stabbing assassins that I had under my command, but that was way better than having someone who'd trip the first alarm he ran across!

Sighing, I decided that what I was doing right now would not be good for the mission, and so I attempted to calm myself down a little. After all, even though anger and hate gave a lot of power and strength in battle, it was only useful when you had the head to use it. Giving a couple of breems of time for myself to relax, I started to think about the mission.

It was shaky, at best, but I was good. Really good. These 'Bots would certainly put up a fight, but I'd be long gone before they'd have the presence of mind to actually do something constructive against an infiltrator of my caliber. That was just the problem, I realized, stealing a glance at my mysterious, and unwilling, comrade in mayhem. I decided it would be worth the while to learn something of the mech. I hated to be in the dark about these things, and it was important to know at least a little about the mech you were doing a possibly fatal mission with.

I took a deep breath and broke the silence that had lasted ever since we took off from the base shuttle bay landing platforms.

"Hey Barricade, do you have any experience in the field concerning the sabotage part of the mission?" I asked, at least attempting to sound relatively nice. He cocked an optic ridge at me, infuriating me further, and making my spark flip. I didn't show it though.

"I've been on the receiving end of enough sabotage missions to know what doesn't work and what does," he answered. I grinned.

"Never been on a mission yourself, then?"

"I have, but only in the beginning of the war. I worked both undercover and as an infiltrator in Iacon," he stated, dropping his steady gaze and looking at the wall across from him. "But I know enough to do this."

I couldn't help it. I scoffed.

"Right. Just give me a call when they throw you in the brig after you screw up and get captured, and I'll see if I have the time – and the patience – to come and rescue your sorry aft."

"Don't worry, I won't expect you to do that – for anyone. Now, how about we go over the plan one more time, before we actually have to do it?" I snorted. Who did he think he was, ordering me like that?

"I know perfectly well what I have to do. It's your fault if you don't."

"And it becomes your problem if something I do doesn't go well with something you do. It could result to the failure of the mission. I know for a fact that you haven't failed a single mission yet. Would you like to start with screwing up something as important as this by just not going over the plans properly?"

I growled a warning. He was really starting to get on my last nerves. But, he was right. I couldn't risk the mission just because I didn't really pair with my so-called partner.

"Alright." I received a nod as he activated the holo-map of the area.

Our plan was relatively simple: he'd create the diversion by blowing up the loading area with a time-set bomb and by tripping the sensors of the military part of the complex, in the east. That way the Autobots would have to spread out thin, in two places of the complex. Meanwhile, I would make my way through the defenses and into the air channels of the south-west residential area and then into the command center where I'd proceed with disengaging the defenses of the vault and stealing/destroying the data in the main computer.

Barricade would enter the complex from the north-east, through the waste dump area, after the place was clear of Autobots. He'd make his way to the vault, and set the bombs to blow the place up. On his way to the hangar, he would throw a couple of more bombs to any and all armories, weapons silos and other military sections he'd come across with. I'd do the same, and we'd meet in the shuttle hangar, grab the sleekest speeder available and blow up the thrusters on any other air carriers in the hangar. After that, we'd make our hasty retreat and come back home, mission accomplished.

It sounded so easy that I knew something would go wrong. As it would turn out, I would be right – as usual.

"One more thing, Barricade," I said to him before he could delve too deeply into his own thoughts. He glanced at me.

"What?"

"Radio silence. If they have an interceptor there, he'll be on high alert after the bombs go off. I will contact you once I'm ready with the command center, agreed? No other communications through-out the whole mission, unless it is absolutely necessary." He almost looked… impressed.

"You make a good point. Perhaps I underestimated your capabilities. Agreed."

* * *

After another few joors, the pilot of the shuttle opened the inner radio.

"Okays, boys and girls, it's time to drop!"

"He makes it sound like we're going on a nice little walk outside," Barricade growled, and I agreed, despite myself. That fragger piloting the ship had absolutely no idea what we two were going up against.

Such was my life. Joy.

We grabbed our parachutes and dropped out of the plane without another word to each other. We'd find each other once we were on the ground, and proceed to the Autobot encampment together.

I landed with a dull thud on the ground, absorbing most of the impact with the balls of my feet and then rolling once to get rid of the momentum. I dispatched my parachute and took cover in case some wandering Autobot had spotted our ship and decided to investigate. I didn't want to get any nasty surprises.

While listening for anyone coming my way, I started to look at the landscape to get a better view on what I should expect. This area had never been densely populated, so it still held the natural formations of some random cliffs and canyons, just as Soundwave had informed us before we took off back at the base. I could only see a couple of abandoned buildings, shot through with plasma, energy-blasts and missiles. The scars of war were clearly visible here as well. For a moment, I wondered what kind of people had lived here – and if they still lived at all. I shook my head, refocusing my attention on the mission. I could not fail.

Just as I was about to leave my hide-out, sure that no one was around, I heard some pebbles shift. I whipped my blaster out of sub-space and powered it up. If that was an Autobot, he had barely five klicks to live.

"Cripplerip? I know you're there, you better not shoot me, or I will put you in a condition in which the Autobots would laugh their heads off at you and die rather than take you as a serious spy," came Barricade's irritated voice. _What's with him now, then?_ I asked myself as I stepped out and looked around. I located his spark signature from my left flank, and looking at him, I knew exactly what had gotten under his armor. Literally.

His armor was dented, scratched and pinged, and he overall looked like he had been dragged behind a ground-bound transport for twelve cycles, but that wasn't the worst of it. His right arm was awkwardly bent to his back, and judging by his face, it was also stuck.

"You really don't have any experience on air-drops, do you?" I asked, laughing and putting my gun back in sub-space. He just looked at me with a promise of violence in his optics if I didn't help him in his predicament. With another chuckle, I approached him, circling his torso and taking a closer look at his peculiar problem. "How did you manage to do this?" I asked as I poked at the hand. The armor on his forearm and somehow tangled itself with his armor protecting his lower back. I couldn't see exactly how it was done, but it looked to be pretty painless.

"Don't bother wondering about that, just get it working again," he growled. Poor mech was embarrassed, of all things. I directed him to sit down for a minute, so I could examine it better. After a breem or two, I gave up and started to tug it back and forth in an attempt at loosening the ties between the metals. Barricade wasn't impressed at my medical prowess.

"What the slag do you think you are doing?" he asked, his little patience wearing thinner with each tug.

"Trying to get you operational."

"That doesn't work."

CLING!

"Oh?" I asked as his hand dropped free. He just glared at me while his left hand busied itself with rubbing the other one.

"Don't say anything, femme," he warned as he saw the mischievous smirk tickling my lips. I was about to answer him, but my audios picked a sound that didn't belong to a desolate area such as this. Not at all. It was the sound of engines gunning away at a high speed. And it was nearing our location.

He seemed to have noticed it as well. Maybe his sensors were better than I anticipated.

"Do you hear that?" he asked, standing up to a crouch, ready to pounce in any direction in case of combat.

"Yes. It seems to me that we have to make our move sooner than we thought," I replied, my optics already searching for a good spot to ambush the on-comers. I spotted a cliff-face not far from us.

"This way," I ordered and transformed, speeding ahead and not bothering to look if he came or not. In this mission, we'd have to be able to trust the other to follow the instructions given, no matter how strange or sudden they were. Our lives could depend on it, as well as the successfulness of the mission.

The Autobots were fast, but we were faster, and managed to get to the cliffs and hide before the blue-opticed enemies got too close. I watched them approach us, hiding behind a boulder with Barricade.

There were four of them, all mechs, and they looked to be your regular patrol group.

"Hey, Hound! Check these tracks out! They don't look to belong to any of our mechs, huh?" a blue and red mech asked, transforming to his bi-pedal mode and looking at the tracks I and Barricade left behind. I wasn't concerned about him, however. I took one look at the dull-green mech beside him and started to quietly swear.

"What's wrong?" Barricade breathed out. I didn't answer, opting that continuing to spew profanities would make me feel a bit better about the situation. He didn't take any of that, however. "Quit reminding yourself of all the insults you can think of and answer me!"

"That fragger Hound happens to be the very best of Autobot trackers! He'll have us pinned in record time if we don't create a diversion big enough to fool him! He belongs to the junior officers of the Autobots, and he won't be easy to trick," I said. He raised an optic ridge, but I ignored it.

"How do you know the junior officers of the Autobots so well?" he asked me.

"I've hacked their computers more times than I can count. I've uncovered most of their personnel already, and have created bios of them. Information is power, as you well know," I answered. "Now shut _up_ before they find out where we are!"

"Hound, can you track them?" the same red and blue mech asked.

"Is the Prime our leader? Of course I can, youngling. I'm not called the best tracker of the Autobot army because it matches my name!"

Without waiting for any longer, the Autobot tracker began his work. _Slag, I'll have to think fast!_ I thought and then made a quick once-over of the situation. We would have to take them out quickly, before they could call for reinforcements from the base, or alert them to our presence. What's more, their sudden disappearance would raise questions and put the whole Autobot base to high alert, making it virtually impossible for us to infiltrate. I cursed our stinking pilot for flying so sloppily. We were supposed to stay under the radar!

_Fragger will need a medic when I'm through with him… or maybe Primus himself!_

"Barricade, we have maybe a breem time to ambush them before they contact the Autobot base for reinforcements. I need you to take out the two on the left flank. I'll deal with that rookie and Hound personally."

"Roger. Any specific battle plan?"

"No, just don't let them contact their base. Our mission depends on our secrecy."

"Gotcha."

We separated to ambush the Autobots on from front and behind as they neared our hide-out. It wasn't much of a plan, but it had to work. We didn't have anything else. Lucky for us, our tracks lead to some bear rock-face, and Hound had no more tracks to follow.

"They can't be far, the tracks were still warm. I recommend we -"

I didn't let him finish the sentence, because I figured it would include the words "contact the base" within the next two klicks, and instead shot him directly in the nape of his neck. Unfortunately the slagger had harder armor than I thought, and was only dazed, and not out cold as I'd hoped. Out of these four, I only recognized Hound, and I knew he was already an experienced fighter. He wouldn't be easy to tackle, and I'd just lost my element of surprise.

"Die, Hound!" I screamed and launched myself, claws spread out and ready to shred him to little pieces. The rookie, the one who had been thoughtful enough to notice our tracks in the first place, aimed a lousy shot at me that would have earned him a beating if he was in my command. It did serve a purpose, though. I had to twist my body a little, thus disrupting my perfectly executed assault, and making me miss my target. I snarled viciously.

"If you are in such a hurry to die, youngling…" I gave a primal roar and lunged. The youngling tried to protect himself by raising his arm up, but he only got it skewered for his efforts. His scream was drowned by the lower bellow of pain from another mech that Barricade downed, using a mace he whipped from sub-space. I made a mental note to ask about it as I slashed the Autobot's head, slashing his right audio clean off. I knew his comm. systems were off-line, so he wasn't a threat anymore.

A glance to the side showed me that Barricade was doing well himself. One of the two Autobots for him was laying on the ground, motionless. He had a nice dent on the side of his helm. He'd have the mother of all headaches when… if he woke up. It was possible that Barricade had caved his CPU in. _Wouldn't that be just sad…?_

I turned to Hound, who'd taken a dive to avoid me, and was only now getting himself together. Like Pit was I about to let that happen!

I growled and tackled him to the ground, making sure to damage his comm. link system in the process.

"Now there's no way to call for help, Autobot. Just lay still, and I'll make you die fast and painlessly!" I suggested. Of course he didn't comply, kicking me square in the mid-section of my torso and propelling himself up as I was catching whatever breath I still had.

"I don't need the others to take the trash out!" he countered, taking out his plasma pistol and opening fire. I dodged nimbly to the side, getting more distance between us and grabbing my own gun. I snarled, partly in annoyance, partly in pain, as one lucky shot grazed my elbow.

"Stand still, Decepticon scum, or your partner will be history!" They had Barricade. I growled, but then something from the corner of my optic took my interest.

The fallen rookie. A smile, a sadistic, sinister and very much Decepticon smile formed on my faceplates as I made a dive for him, rolling over him and positioning him between me and the Autobots still grabbing onto Barricade.

"You let him go, or there won't be enough of this rookie even _become_ history!" I snarled, fastening my arm around his neck and my blaster to his temple. Hound looked murderous, but I knew him from the files – he'd let Barricade go if he thought he could rescue the rookie that way.

"Alright. Let him go," Hound said, motioning the other Autobot to release Barricade. As soon as he was free, he spun around and took out the last of his two remaining opponents before whipping out his blaster.

Hound was furious.

"I thought we had a deal!" I laughed and shrugged, faking an innocent voice as best as I could while maintaining my malicious look.

"Heh, Decepticon," I threw at him as an explanation before Barricade shot him in the side. Hound fell, but Barricade was already on top of him, landing a heavy punch on the side of his face.

"That ought to keep him down," he said, dusting himself off as I pushed the youngling away. He was in stasis as well.

"Let's clean this up."

"Do we kill them?"

"Waste of time. Besides, it'll be bad for their morale if they later find out that one of their officers, along with three soldiers, were over-powered by two Decepticons," I said, throwing him a couple of stasis cuffs I had with, just in case I needed to get rid of someone.

"Right," he acknowledged, not bothering to question me. We left the mechs in a small cave, probably created by a large explosion, since the edges were so ragged, and sped off in the direction of the Autobot base. As we were nearing it, Barricade opened a comm. link to me.

"The transport is going to go in in about ten breems. You think we'll make it?"

"We'll have to. We can't risk waiting for the next one, it will take joors! And we don't have that much time, the mechs will be missed if they don't report in at the right time. The care the Autobots put to each other is foolish, but it does tend to make things harder for us," I replied and increased my speed, Barricade asily keeping up with me.

"Cripplerip, do you actually think that this will work? The plan is practically transparent, it has so many holes! For example, have you yet figured out how to get to the command center?"

"No, but it'll come to me."

"Well it better come fast – it has approximately one joor!"

"I'm aware of the fact that we have a tight schedule. Do your part, and I'll be sure to do mine."

"Good, because I don't want to get stranded in front of their energon vault and wonder why the Pit the thing won't open, just because you failed to get into the command center."

"Shut up and drive, mech!"

He did, to my joy. We were only a few decasims away from the target as he suddenly stopped. I pulled up next to him, silently asking why he was not moving.

"You need to hide yourself. I think the base alarms will be enough to alert you to the moment when you'll have to move," he said. If I could have, I would have rolled my optics at him, even though his words warmed my spark for some odd reason.

"You do remember who you're talking to, right? I'm not some stupid underling incapable of taking care of herself."

"That may be so, but you're still a femme in a hostile area. These mechs are soldiers, they won't hesitate to shoot. You already saw that with the patrol."

"And I won't hesitate to rip their heads off. Stop worrying, you sound like a pacifist, and start to move your aft. You do have the bombs, yes?"

"Affirmative." He turned his engine on again, but didn't move. "And Cripplerip…"

"_Yes_?" I was getting impatient. If he idled here long enough, our chance would be missed!

"Take care of yourself."

Before I could answer, he was nothing but a speeding away dust cloud. I growled. Who was he thinking he was, anyway, telling me what to do like I was a helpless sparkling?

And why in the Pit was my spark… singing like that…? Like it was calling to him…

I gunned my engine and sped off to the other direction. I had a hide-out to find.

* * *

Almost a joor later I was sitting quietly in a little crevice at the edge of the encampment, waiting for the alarms to sound. I hope he had been successful in planting the bomb. If not…

_I hope he's safe._

What the-?! Where did that come from? He wasn't important, not in the least! The mission mattered, the mission, only the mission had any value…

I knew I was lying. My spark laughed at me, at my feeble attempts of banning him from my thoughts. It didn't matter, I tried anyway. When it didn't work, I turned to logic.

Why would he matter? Why should he? I'd been on paired missions before, and I'd never even spared a thought to my partners. The only thing I'd been worried about had been if they'd get their jobs done. So why was Barricade's safety in my priority list now, all of a sudden?

I didn't have time to dwell on that, because I felt the ground give a slight tremble about a nanosecond before the base alarms started screaming their circuits out.

_I guess he managed to do that. My turn._

I dashed out of my hiding place after a few more nanoseconds later, already activating my highest level sensors to locate the mines buried in the rubble ahead. Weaving my way through them expertly I reached the fence and scaled it without a problem, landing in a crouch on the other side, hand at my subspace, ready to pull out my gun and shoot.

No one was there. _Aww, no welcoming committee? I'm absolutely devastated_, I thought to myself with sarcasm before I remembered the turrets before the shuttle bay, which was already clear in my view.

Which would mean…

"SLAGGIT!" I swore as I dodged the first of many plasma rounds directed at me from the automated Gatling guns positioned before the hangar. My gun appeared from my subspace and I began returning fire, all the while running towards the shuttle bay before I could get my small, "borrowed" EMP blaster from subspace and shorting the signal feed of the activated sensors to the turrets, which immediately ceased their fire.. _They still have mechs there, to be sure. I'll have to dispose of them._

I wasn't surprised, or disappointed, to find three mechs waiting for me, guns primed, aimed and ready, when I finally got out of the field. One of the mechs apparently opened a comm. link.

"This is Grindhalt from the shuttle bay! We have an intruder! I repeat, we have- AAAGH!" he fell down after I shot a well-aimed round through his throat, destroying his vocalizer. I didn't care if I'd killed him or not – he wouldn't be getting back up with a wound that serious anyway. I turned to the other two and smiled.

"Catch."

I threw a grenade at them and dived behind a couple of conveniently placed crates. I heard an alarmed sound before the explosion. I got up and didn't bother looking if they were finished either. No one, and I mean no one, took a grenade in the face and stood up to fight again, not without some serious repairs.

The air channel was easy enough to locate, and I did it just in time too. I already heard the footfalls of more Autobot soldiers coming down the hallway and fast.

"Grindhalt! Oh no, Technax, make sure they get to the medic and fast! The rest of you, spread out and find the intruder! He can't be far!"

_No, SHE isn't, but that's something you don't know and won't find out_, I thought and closed the air channel behind me. If they thought it was a mech, they wouldn't check the air channel. Soundwave had been right; I barely managed to squeeze my own, lithe body through the crack that was supposed to be the air channel. There was no way a mech of any size would fit in here.

And now to find out the exit…

I knew the way to the residential area due to Soundwave's lay-out map_. I have to thank him for that later_, I reminded myself as I reached the right hatch. I forced it open, holding my breath to hear if someone was there.

Not a peep.

I dropped down from the ceiling and quickly ran to the wall, flattening myself against it and pulling out my trusted blaster. If someone was going down this hall, they'd meet nothing but a swift death.

It didn't take me long to reach the command center. And now to take down the defenses… I saw an energy detector and purposefully tripped it, activating the repeaters on either side of the reinforced door to the command center. I didn't give them time to fire, already releasing a burst of EMP waves to disrupt the signal, rendering the small turrets useless. I made a mental note to get an EMP blaster of my own – the thing actually was useful!

Walking over, I looked at the shut door. No way were my claws going to be any good here – it was simply way too thick. I looked at the command panel in at the side of the door. Maybe the used buttons would be a little faded…? No such luck. I was getting frustrated. I had NOT come all this way to stand in front of a door until someone came and opened it!

…Or maybe that's exactly what I'd have to do.

I took a step back, a plan already forming in the back of my processor. I needed to get some mechs here, needed someone to open the door for me… after which they could drop dead for all I cared. If possible, someone from the command center itself, so I wouldn't need to deal with any additional nuisances tripping by. Now, how to get them out…

The door swooshed open, and I found myself staring into the blue optics of none other than the weapons specialist of the whole Autobot army. He looked to be just as surprised, but I knew it would only last a second. My face fell, and amongst my quickly mounting panic I recognized annoyance. _Of all the fraggers, it had to be him! HAD TO! First Hound, then Ironhide… What is this, the Autobot headquarters? Next thing I know, I run straight to the waiting arms of the fragging Prime!_

"YOU!" he roared and suddenly the only things I saw were his cannon barrels. I squeaked and dived for cover just as the monsters unloaded all their energy down the corridor. "I won't let you run this time, you little slag!"

I was sure that was a promise, not a mere threat, so I decided to move my aft – fast. I scrambled into the command center just before the doors swooshed closed, immediately ripping into the wall paneling on the other side, almost moaning in relief as I found the wires giving the commands to the door and severing them.

I simply couldn't risk myself being in the same room as the weapons specialist! I was tough, tougher than most mechs I'd dealt with, but I was not going against him if I could avoid it! Fragger was crazy!

"Hey, Ironhide, what are y-? Wait a nanosec, you aren't Ironhide! Intruder alert! Intruder in the command center, all units mobilize!"

Frag, this isn't going my way at all!

I dodged and felt the heat of an energy round warm my back side, rolling twice and springing back up. My optics took inventory of the situation.

Eight mechs, two of them heavily armed, the other six looked like they were scientists or communications specialists, not warriors. I shot three of them before I had to move again, this time diving behind a communications table for cover. I heard a mech shout out, probably one of the soldiers in the room.

"Take cover! Tracks, we'll take care of her! Come on!" I heard the footsteps come closer, but I paid it no mind. Instead, I abandoned my blaster. If they wanted close combat, they'd sure as Pit get it!

Screaming like a cyber-wolf I turned and shot at the first mech available, a blue one. He fell down screaming, clutching his face where I'd shot it. I wasn't satisfied with my results, however; I'd missed the optics. I growled and turned on the next mech, a scientist. I punched him to the next cycle before leaping onto another mech and crashing him against another console, bashing his head against the metal until he went lax. I heard a click to my right.

"D-Don't move, or I-I-I'll s-shoot," the remaining mech stuttered. He was a small mech, thin and weak. I laughed.

"Right. Forgive me when I don't shake in my armor. It's just that," I executed a perfect round-house kick, knocking the gun to the far corner of the room, before grabbing his throat harshly, my smile turning into a mask of hate and despise, my blaster digging into his side. I knew it was uncomfortable. "I can't take you Autofailures seriously enough to fear you." I shot. The round ripped into his side, ripping apart some important wiring. His scream of agony filled my audios like sweetest music. My family was being avenged with every drop of energon they bled, with every drop I drew from their undeserving bodies…

I shook myself off the offline mech and walked over to the mech still holding his face. I knocked him out with a well-placed kick to the head, looking around me with satisfaction. Seven mechs down in record time. I turned to the main console just as a nagging feeling in the back of my helm told me that something wasn't right.

Seven…?

I realized my mistake a moment too late. My arms were suddenly ripped tightly to my back, and my legs were pinned against the console and I felt a blaster on my temple. I strained my neck to see who I'd missed, but my optics met nothing but air. I swore.

"Cloaker. A cloaking device. Smart."

"Not quite as smart as you were. How did you get in?" the invisible mech asked me like we were having a nice chat in a local cafeteria. I smiled. I'd win this game easily… But I wanted some information first.

"I'm a spy. I'm not about to just hand all my secrets to you. But if you must know, I am a cloaker as well. I simply waltzed in."

"That's a lie, Decepticon scum. But that's all right, you 'Cons fraggers were never ones for truth, were you?"

"Not really. It's usually a bit inconvenient. Now then, I answered your question like the Decepticon that I am, how about you answer me a question like the Autobot that you are, hmm? I'd like to know why so many of your officers are here at this special time… Mirage," I guessed. The slight tensing of the invisible frame against mine told me that I was right. He wasn't laughing anymore.

"How do you know me? And what do you mean, many officers are here?"

"Oh don't waste the time from both of us by being stupid, Mirage! I'm a spy, an assassin; I'm supposed to know these things." I got a nasty idea. "As for the other officers or higher ranking soldiers I've seen today… Well, Ironhide is probably still trying to blast through that door, not that he'll make it in time to help you, but anyway, and another officer is taking a well-earned rest in the desert a couple of joors of hard driving from here. I think you might know him, his name was Mutt, or Dog, or perhaps Whelp…" The blaster on my temple increased its pressure.

"Where is Hound?" his voice shook with restrained anger and worry for his friend.

"What's in it for me, Autobot?" I slyly asked. His arm tightened, almost cutting off my energon flow.

"I'll ask them to give you a quick execution."

"Tempting. But, I think my time to play with you has run out. So if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"You aren't going anywhere, you piece o-o-…"

His insult died on his lips as his grip slackened and he flickered into view. I turned my head to see his face. It held anger, worry, pain… but surprise was the first and foremost.

Then again, I'd be surprised as well if I found that the captive I had captured so easily had thrust claws as long as her forearms into my innards.

"Sorry, Mirage, but maybe next time you won't be so tragically naïve," I said as he sunk to the floor. I didn't bother killing any one of them. If they died, cool, if they didn't, I'd just kill them another time. My mission was to disengage that vault lock. After a few failed attempts, I found the code required to take it offline.

"Confirmation?" the computer asked.

"Yes," I smiled and pressed the button. Barricade was now free to plant the bombs.

Then I set out to search the secondary objects of the mission: the information logs. Soundwave would be happy with the additional information, as well as Megatron himself, and I had time – Barricade would need at least five breems to get all the bombs ready.

Immediately after I found the logs, I heard a dull boom through the door. I frowned. Ironhide was apparently determined to get my hide this time, if he was so willing to bomb his own base. I had to hurry. I wasn't sure how much abuse those doors could take, and the Autobots knew their weaknesses.

I let the program load all available information in peace, instead opting to start assembling the bombs around the command center to secure my escape. I had t get out myself, and if bombing the door in the faces of a few Autobots was the prize, especially when Ironhide was included, then hey, what more could I ask for? When I was done, I opened a comm. link to Barricade as agreed.

'_Barricade? Are you there?'_

Static. For a horrible second, I thought he'd been captured or killed, the mission had been compromised and I'd be next. Then he answered.

'_I hear you. Status?'_

I could have leaped of joy, but restrained myself, realizing that I was acting not only out of line but also out of character. I kept my voice cool.

'_I'm almost done, need one breem, then I'll get out with a boom. You?'_

'_Already done. The fireworks will start in about ten breems. We have got to get away from here before that. I'm on my way to the escape cruiser. ETA two breems.'_

'_My ETA is four – I don't know if I'll find resistance or not. If I'm not there in five, leave.'_

'_Likewise. Over and out.'_

'_Out.'_

'_Cripplerip?'_

'_Yes?'_

'_Be safe.'_

'… _You too, Barricade.'_

He was safe. That was the first thought that occurred to me. Then I got a grip of myself and laid the last bomb in place, right next to three others right behind the door. I let out a little giggle, to my surprise and horror. But I was just so giddy about Barricade being safe – for now – and getting to blow a 6 ton titanium door in the face of the Autobots' weapons specialist! Too bad I couldn't see his face when he saw the thing flying at him… If he'd have the time to look.

A ping from the main console told me that the download was ready. I grabbed the portable memory disk and slipped it into subspace in my midsection – it was the strongest armor I had, and that information could be invaluable to the cause. I heard another boom, and smiled a twisted, probably demented smile. I didn't care, this was too much fun to care about my looks!

"Is someone knocking? Who's there?" I asked through the radio that connected the command center to the hall. I heard a couple of wild, colorful curses fly and laughed. "Oh, HI Ironhide! You want to come in? Here, let me _open the door for you_!" And I pressed the trigger to the bombs.

The noise was unbelievable. I was smart enough to take my audios offline before blowing everything up, but the shockwaves told me that it wasn't just a little pang I had made. I took a look at the door… or the place where it was supposed to be, and laughed when I saw a couple of Autobot mechs sprawled across the floor of the hallway, obviously thrown back by the brute force of the explosives. I carefully stepped around a few, stopping by a bulky black mech. I smiled again.

"Sorry, Ironhide, sweetspark, but I have to go." I blew the stasis-locked body a kiss. "Til next time…" And then I ran.

Surprisingly enough, I didn't meet any more Autobots in the halls, and got to the hangar without further incident. Barricade had already sabotaged the remaining few ships in the hangar, spare the one we would ride away with.

"Did you get everything?"

"Affirmative, now let's move before that blasted black hunk of aged junk comes back to haunt my aft again. I swear to Primus, he's like a bad karma, coming back again and again like that…" His brow frowned in confusion, but he let me in the ship nonetheless.

"May I inquire as to whom you are referring to?"

"Ironhide, the weapons specialist. Fragger keeps popping out of thin air in my face with both of those twin monster cannons of his, fully primed of course."

"Charming. Did you meet any more important people on your little expedition?"

"Yeah, Mirage and Tracks were here as well. Mirage is a junior spy, has a superb cloaker, but he's ridiculously naïve at times."

"And Tracks?"

"A beginner, but shows promise – unfortunately. He'll have to get a new face-plate though. I shot him."

Barricade smiled as he started the engines of the small speeder as I made myself comfortable in the co-pilot's seat. "Did it hurt?" We took off, and just as I'd expected, the anti-air turrets didn't even blink at us.

"He screamed like a sparkling."

"Awww…"

"I know. I put him to recharge soon after though. And you? How was your part?" His smile disappeared.

"I, too, met an officer."

"Oh? Who, then?"

"Prowl." My optics widened.

"Son of a -! What the PIT did the second in command of the whole army do in a freaking energon storage facility?!"

"I asked, but he didn't answer. I think they had something more important there than the energon," Barricade speculated. Then he opened a subspace and handed me something. A datapad. I frowned.

"What is this?"

"I snatched it form Prowl when he was in a… predicament. I think it's important, he hung on to it like it was his bondmate or something."

I activated the thing, and took a closer look at the data within. My optics widened further.

"Barricade… This is the whole list of the entire supply stockade of the Autobots! Everything they have is listed here: energon, weapons, machines, personnel… You might have recovered something of much more importance than I did!" He looked as surprised as I felt.

"But… Why would Prowl have something like that with him in a place like this?"

"I don't know, but that isn't important either. We must get this to the headquarters immediately." I took a small pause and looked at him from the corner of my optic.

He looked… strong. Handsome. Independent. Powerful. Sure and without a doubt, like he knew everything in the world, no, the universe, and knew that nothing could harm him.

My spark twisted painfully within its compartment in my chest, and I resisted the urge to put my hand on my chest or move closer to Barricade, as my spark told me.

He noticed my stare.

"Are you okay?"

That shook me out of it.

"Yeah… Yeah I am…"

I settled down, ready to get some well-earned recharge after this little mission. While waiting for my systems to fall into the recharge routine, I pondered on my spark, something I hadn't done in a long, long time.

I'd heard stories of sparks reacting to feeling someone special nearby. I knew it applied to family members, even going so far as to second cousins in some cases, but I knew for a fact that Barricade wasn't related to me. In any way. So why was my spark acting like this…?

It hit me moments before recharge did. Seekers told stories of their sparks choosing a partner out of all the other sparks in existence, and out of those yet to come. They called it spark recognition, and said that that's where the word sparkmates originated from. It meant two sparks that were supposed to be together. One. Bonded, for eternity.

I never believed them.

But then, what other could my spark mean…? Before I could think on it any further, blackness consumed me, and I fell into a dreamless recharge, next to the only being that had ever raised such emotions in me.

* * *

SPINNING TURBO FOX IN A SLAG-BUCKET! How's that for a long chapter, huh?! Jesus, I thought it would never end… PLEASE R&R after this one, it was a nightmare to write, as fun as it was. : ) And the next chapter is a bonus chapter, don't read if you don't want to see my first attempt at really mature content! BYE!!!


	4. Bonus Chapter: The Bonding

OKAYS, this is a strictly MATURE content! So I you get offended by stuff like that, please push the "back" button on the top-left corner of the screen. Yes, that's the arrow there, at least it should be. No like, no have to read. There is absolutely nothing that you REALLY have to know here as long as the back-ground goes. Bottom line is as the title says: Cripplerip and Barricade bond to each other. That's it.

_**Disclaimer:**_I own Cripplerip and the plot, no touchy-feely without my permission. Barricade and Hook do not belong to me, they belong to Hasbro and his buddies.

Los geht's!

* * *

**Cripplerip**

I was making my way to my room after that good for nothing fragging medic-pretending excuse of a Constructicon Hook _finally_ got the last adjustments done. I was exhausted, and hungry, but I felt too de-energized after the mission to get energon from the rec room. Pit, I'd felt better even after that fiasco Trion-incident at the beginning of my true 'Con career! My limbs felt like they were made out of lead, and the energon I still had in my system was running sluggishly.

Overall, I was surprised Hook even gave me the okay to leave the med bay and go recharge on my own! Then again, the fragger might just try to get rid of me… and his healing skills were, at best, questionable, and everyone knew he didn't live by any medical ethics or morals, he was a damn _Constructicon_, for Pit's sake…!

I didn't particularly care if it was the meds, the ridiculously low energy levels or just mental exhaustion that made me stumble from corridor to corridor. I was also pretty pissed off at Barricade, Soundwave and Megatron together. We'd had to report back immediately when our stolen ship had touched down, and we'd spent almost two joors going over every piece of information we'd recovered. I knew Soundwave could have handled that just fine on his own, so I was angry with a reason. Megatron had only wanted us there to tell him everything, and had been furious when we hadn't known the reason for the Autobot officers' presence. And Barricade, the _fragger_, had ditched me the second we had left the debriefing room, leaving me alone to go to Hook.

All I wanted was to crash on my berth and be done with it. When I did reach my door and punched in the code, I gave off a rare, content sigh.

For one reason or another, I failed to notice the figure lurking in the shadows across from my room. I heard a predatory growl before I was roughly shoved into my quarters, and the door was sealed shut behind me. The whole place plunged into darkness, but I was now fully aware of my surroundings and the soft growling of the unwanted intruder. Before I could do anything, however, I felt someone – a mech, judging by the size of the hand – grab my arm and I was almost violently trashed against the wall so I was facing it, with both of my hands neatly held so that I couldn't move to stab the fragger with my blades.

_Slag, this one knows me_, I thought and attempted to slither away. What I got was a rumbling laugh that sent shivers down my spinal cords. Then I felt his breath on my neck, making me almost visibly shiver.

"You sure took your time by the medic, didn't you…?" he breathed and inhaled deeply, smelling me. I'd heard the voice so many times in the last cycle that I didn't need any more conviction on who this mech was, even though this time his voice was laced with barely concealed lust. My spark gave a painful tug, but I told it to shove it out of an airlock and follow after.

"Barricade! What are _you_ doing in _my_ quarters?" I hissed at him, attempting to bite him by twisting a little. He just snapped his head back and laughed.

"You'd think you'd be tired after a mission like that. But no, you are different, aren't you…? I wonder if you have the energy for the… activities… I planned on engaging with you?" he asked, and I could just hear his suggestive smile. I wasn't in the mood for games, however. I was tired, under-energized, and generally confused about everything. I did _not_ need his slag right now!

"Go frag Starscream. He's already Megatron's bitch number two, and since our Lord has now settled with a semi-serious relationship with our Femme Commander, I'm sure he's feeling neglected. Why don't you make it all better and _leave me the frag alone?"_ I got another deep, rumbling laugh that I could feel tremble his whole frame. I was serious though, slaggit!

"I think not."

"That is painfully obvious. That you don't think, that is."

"Snappy, aren't you? Did Hook give you the wrong meds…? I'd think you have enough energy for those activities I earlier mentioned, though…" he said and proceeded to graze my still-sensitized neck cables with his denta while blowing hot air between the cabling and plating. I involuntarily shivered, and he noticed, given the close proximity. "And I think you're enjoying this too."

"Frag a cassette." I suggested, fighting the pleasure feeds my treacherous sensors were sending me. My spark was in alliance with the damned pieces of machinery, and was sending energy tendrils all over my body.

"I'd rather frag you. The cassettes aren't nearly as attractive as you are, as… alluring," he breathed out and softly bit down on a main energon line. I really had to fight to keep the moan down. Primus it felt good! But I wasn't about to just let him waltz in and claim me, no way! I was the slagging top assassin of the 'Cons, not some whore from the underground Kaon!

"Well, then, _partner_, you're _slag_ out of luck! You're going to have to find your 'alluring' company elsewhere, because I am not about to –_oohhh_…" my argument dissolved into a moan as he let go of my hands and let them fall to my sides, shortly followed by his own, larger ones – that then proceeded to find the transformation seams running down the middle of my sides. He wasn't shy on exploring whether or not they were sensitive to touch.

The fact that Hook's medical had left my sensors tingling was also not helping my case. I could only hungrily pant as he suckled on my neck cabling and audio while his hands charted my armor, inevitably dipping into whatever seams and crannies they found on it. My hands were preoccupied trying to help my weakening knees to keep me up, propping me against the wall as his hands moved on to map my ribcage, his nails dragging slowly, _deliciously_ upwards from my hips...

"Bar-ricadeeee…" It was supposed to be threatening, but even I could hear what a failure that was.

"See?" he murmured between his kisses, "It isn't so bad…"

"S-Speak for yourself, you oversized, glitching mechano-rabbit…" I snarled, making him smile against my shoulder, as it was the place he was kissing at the moment. I momentarily got a breather as he considered what to do next.

"I'm too tired to play around with you, Barricade. Leave before you lose something you might miss later."

"You know as well as I do that I'm stronger from the two of us, so don't even think about it. Accept it, femme: I am far your superior in a situation such as this."

"Don't flatter yourself. It's Starscream's privilege to be an egoistic glitch. Now get off!"

"Oh, I'll get off alright, but I doubt it's the way you think I will. Femme," he growled possessively, "you are _mine_."

Before I came out with another snarky thing to launch in his face, he dug his clawed fingers under my battle-armor via a convenient gap between two plates making up the protection of my hips. I couldn't help it – I shrieked in surprise and, to my utter embarrassment, pleasure, and my hand flew up to his, clutching it, but not prying it off. He didn't let up, despite the fact that I started to squirm to find a little leverage to push him off, and to distract me further, I presumed, he crashed me against the wall again. I, reflexively, protected my faceplates from being crushed by twisting my head to the side – and received an open-mouth kiss from him for my efforts. He pushed me to the wall again, so my head was in an awkward position facing 90 degrees away from the wall, trapped by his denta still molesting mine.

I stomped in frustration as his hand started to wander, leaving my side-seam alone. It travelled first down, to my upper thigh, massaging it and rubbing small, gentle circles to make me relax. It was a sharp contrast to what he was doing to my derma, and I growled at it, but it dissolved into a moan as he lifted his hand from my thigh to soothe the armor of my waistline. Slag his talented hands! My spark was trembling, getting ready for the merge it hoped would follow. I could feel, rather than hear, the chuckle that made his chest reverberate against my back at my pathetic – and gradually more half-hearted – attempts to get him to stop and go away.

Oh, how I hated him!

"Come now, femme, tell me you like this," he rumbled in a deep, husky voice, releasing my mouth from his embrace.

I wanted to tell him quite a lot of things, starting with something along the lines of 'stuff your interface cable in a thruster' or maybe 'retro-fit yourself with a port so you don't have to bother me anymore', or maybe… "Fra-ah! Fraggghhh… oh-oh-oh-off…" I moaned, his hand traveling up, up, up…

"I intend to… Trust me, I intend to, little femme…" he murmured, his face buried to my neck, nuzzling it almost lovingly, derma teasing the cables and his hot breath warming them in regular patterns. His hand reached my chest-plating and promptly started smoothing over it, the ghost-like touches making my sensors go haywire. Meanwhile his other hand finally released its grip of my internals and travelled to my lower abdomen, scraping the sharp, deadly claws across the metal sensuously. The same claws that had killed mechs less than a cycle ago. And those claws…

… they were making me go crazy.

"Barricade, w-wait…" I managed to utter between alternately gasping and moaning at his ministrations. He let out a noise that was something between a sigh and a grunt.

"What now, femme? I'm busy…"

"G-Glitch… You- Oh PRIMUS…! Why a-aaaaaaahre you doing thisssss…?" I hissed as his claws made a screeching noise against my armor. I stomped on my foot unhappily, still trapped facing the wall and unable to do anything: I couldn't reach his body well, since he was crushing me against the unforgiving wall, therefore rendering my arms and hands practically useless. I wanted to touch him back, give him a taste of his own, maddening medicine…

His possessive growl made me shiver again.

"Because I heard other mechs talk about how they'd take you, if the chance presented itself. Because you are strong enough to handle this. Because I can. And mostly, and this is going to sound so _Autobot_," he growled and shifted… uneasily? "because my spark can't take another moment of being apart from yours." and he bit down on my neck-cables, fogging my processor with pain and pleasure, mixed together so that I couldn't make one out from the other.

He wasn't successful, however, in distracting me so much as to forget what he had just said. Other mechs, I could handle any day. There were maybe four, five mechs in the whole base that I couldn't take on with at least a 60% chance at winning. Was I strong enough? Pit yes was I strong enough! He had seen how strong I was, and I knew it myself, as well, so I'd definitely be able to take an interface with him, no problem. Because he could…? At first, I'd thought no, but he was so _good_… If he kept this up, I'd be inclined to have him there for the next ten cycles, at least! Then I started to process the last remark.

Because my spark can't take another moment of being apart from yours…? My spark just froze.

He was right, that sentence had Autobot written, pasted, copied and painted all over it. It was so sappy it made me sick, made my tanks churn. It was incredibly gentle, it was honest, tender, _loving_…

It was everything I stood against.

And I couldn't help but agree with him. I hated it. And him. And myself for needing him, his _spark_, so damn much…

But I could still turn the situation so it left us our Decepticon dignity and pride while still giving us what we both so desperately needed, but would never admit to. I released a savage growl, the one I usually directed to someone likely to die within the next few nanoseconds.

"Are you a Decepticon or not?" I asked reproachfully, twisting in his grip. He growled, but I didn't let up. "If yes, then stop with the sappy talk! I've never heard anything that pathetic! If you are truly a Decepticon, you don't _wait_ for something to just drop into your lap, you _take_ it! Do you want me, Barricade?" I asked, twisting my neck painfully to look at his optics. They were slits, and his face was drawn back in a snarl. "_Do you_?!"

"Yes!" he almost roared, pulling me away from the wall and thrusting me to stand on my own two feet, within reaching-range of course. I sneered, dropping my voice to a darker, more seductive level.

"Then what in the name of Unicron are you waiting for? Decepticons take what they want, Barricade. So," I said, spreading my arms in an invite while drawing my claws out, "come and take me, Barricade. If you have the bearings to do it…" I added. It was the last test, and he passed with flying colors.

The vicious snarl that tore at his vocal processor would have been found terrifying by anyone else, but not me. To me, it just meant that he didn't give a slag about my opinion on the matter, he was going to have me _now_. To me, it felt just assuring, it meant "Yes, I want you" and "I know you want me too" at the same time. It meant: This is right. This is as it should be. And to me, it was pretty slagging arousing!

I loved it, and made my opinion clear by screaming out loud in lust as he lunged at me, his claws scratching at my armor, his denta attacking my vulnerable neck, cheeks, mouth, optics, anything it reached.

His attack was so strong that we staggered through the whole room awkwardly before the backs of my legs hit my berth, and we toppled over it. It didn't slow him down one iota, quite the opposite – now he was on top, pressing me against the berth with his larger size and weight, growling and snarling like only he could. He was everything but gentle, and I couldn't have cared less. I was way too busy answering his growls with my own and enjoying his touches across my chest, abdomen, thighs, face… Anywhere! And Primus, if it wasn't just so damned _good_!

"Tell me, femme," he said the word like it was a curse, "am I Decepticon enough _now_?!" He drove his claws through my armor, scraping at the protoforms underneath. I screamed again, partly in lust at his deep voice, and partly in the pain resulting from a punctured energon line. _Frag_, I thought vaguely, _I'll have to go to that slagtard Hook again_…

He seemingly noticed my distraction, because he let loose a growl so predatory that even I wasn't sure if he meant to do some actual damage or just have me right there. "Pay attention to what's important, femme!" he ordered and bit down on my neck, hard enough to cause a slight puncture wound from where his denta penetrated the cables. My spark gave a slight jolt at the feeling, flaring to life.

I was already half-mad with my lust and the desire to just feel his spark against mine, and I writhed, squirmed, did anything to have more contact with his marvelous, deadly and oh, so arousing body! "Yes!" I fairly screeched, something I rarely did, "Now, Barricade, _now_ you are a Decepticon worthy to have me!"

"I'd have you anyway, and you know it, femme," he replied, his touch no longer teasing. No, we were both way past that point. He was attempting to be everywhere at once, and I responded in kind, my claws raking his back and causing small trails of energon appear. His responding growl was nearly enough to make me groan, it was so full of unrestrained passion, lust, desire, and was it love? I couldn't tell anymore, and even if it was an emotion so Autobot, I probably wouldn't have cared. He was here, he was real, and OH, he was _so…_!

"Open for me, femme," he growled soft and low, right next to my audio. How in all the levels of the Pit did he move there? I didn't notice… I decided I didn't much care for that either, and only moaned in response as I felt my port expose itself to him. He didn't waste any time in starting to explore that as well, and what little sense I still had in me was blown away. I arched into him, trying to further the contact, only to have him pull away a little. I groaned in protest.

"Barricade, don't… Oh, fraggit… Don't do…" I saw his smile, but couldn't compute exactly what it meant.

"Don't what, femme? Should I stop?"

Stop? STOP!? Stop when I was so close to getting the best overload of my life? Stop when I finally had him, after cycles of watching him, having my spark sing to him for all the time in an invitation to bond? Stop the only chance I'd probably ever get to have at getting myself a special someone who'd always be there for me, who'd seen the worst of me, accepted it, cherished it, even _loved_ it…? No, I didn't want him to stop! I wanted him to actually start _DOING_ _it_ is what I wanted! And I let him know it by granting him a string of rather colorful curses, to which he chuckled.

"Fine, then, femme… Fine," he said, trying to make it sound like a chore. Unfortunately for him, his voice was so filled with pent up lust and longing that I had no trouble hearing it, even though I wasn't exactly quiet myself, nor was I in a state where I could concentrate on something as trivial as words and their meanings. All I heard was the way my spark kept singing to him.

"Barricaaaaade…" I moaned and lifted my hips to grind against him. He released a loud groan at this, and I could feel his arms shaking from supporting his weight. Yep, he was as far gone as I was! "Please… I can't… I need… " my sentences came out as broken as my voice was, and finally I couldn't formulate any more words, and just settled with showing him exactly what it was that I wanted. I was being pathetic, but it was irrelevant as long as he'd just get it _in_… I raised my shaking hands to his hips, tugging at the protective metal surrounding his interface appliance. He moaned at the touch, sending shivers running through me yet again.

"'Ripper…" he growled, almost violently snatching my weak, small hands away and then fairly yanking off the offending piece of metal that still dared to stand in our way. He threw it somewhere, but neither of us heard it even clank off any walls or on the floor, because as soon as it was gone from between us, he slammed himself into me.

My vision exploded into stars and strange lights, and all I could do was hold on to my sanity, because I was on the brink of losing it. I could vaguely hear two voices moaning passionately, but I failed to recall who they could belong to. I felt his hands travel to my chest-plating, clumsily trying to pry it open. I felt a moan, or a scream, I couldn't tell which, rock my body, and I writhed against him. My spark was almost screaming to him, calling to his desperately, it was so close to the goal it had been after for ever since I'd first seen him… His hands fell from my chest, preoccupied with the task of keeping him from crashing on me. This, however, left him open and vulnerable for my touch.

As if on their own accord, my hands raised again, this time to trace his chest plates. Over the parts covered in glass, scraping the metal after it, circling around the headlights, making him moan over and over again… I felt a certain power swell within me: this mech was goo in my hands!

Bad thing is, I forgot it went both ways. I was reminded quite soon though, as his twitching fingers finally managed to find the clasps keeping my spark chamber locked and sealed from the rest of the world. Being the impatient slagger that he is, he didn't even give me a warning before nearly painfully wrenching it open. I released a cry of surprise as he froze at the sight, giving me the time required to recover from the initial shock of having my internals exposed in such a violent, sudden manner.

_His face __is absolutely beautiful like that_, I decided as I gazed at him, his whole frame illuminated by my spark's strong light, giving his white parts a silvery glow. He had ceased to make a noise of any kind, so the only things I heard were my own, soft moans and the song that my spark was now singing stronger than ever, the invitation to come in, to merge, to become one. And how he looked at me… Like he saw me for the very first time, and he wasn't sure it would be okay to proceed. Usually I'd be despising the look of utter confusion and vulnerability, but he was just… I don't know, but I suddenly realized…

… I loved him.

"Barricade," I breathed out, but he didn't indicate that he'd heard me at all. "Barricade, look at me."

His optics wrenched painfully from the sight of my bare spark and locked onto mine. I raised a hand and caressed his cheek like I'd caressed no one before. It was way too gentle to be me in any normal situation. But this… this wasn't normal. For either one of us.

"Hey, I think I might be in love with you," I confessed, never looking away. I might be going sappy, but I sure as slag wasn't going to play the role of the bashful princess! His optics widened further, and for a surreal moment I thought they might pop out. What a turn-off that would be…

"You," he began but his vocalizer shorted. With a slight frown, he rebooted it and tried again. "You _what_?"

"I love you. I think I've fallen in love with you."

He just sat there, straddling my hips, over my bare, beating and begging spark, and stared. Then he lowered his torso to almost touch mine, bowing his head so he could whisper. "After all the things that have happened in the last few stellar cycles," he breathed, "after all those battles, all the killing, how do we manage to find a moment such as this? How do we manage to find someone… someone who… who could be…" he trailed off, nuzzling my audio affectionately. I sighed.

"If I didn't know you any better, I'd say that you were going Autobot," I chuckled, making him pull back and growl. "I'm just glad I know better. Now, I'm getting impatient, Barricade. So, you are a Decepticon, you have my spark at your disposal, what will you do about it? If you take too long, I might deem it appropriate to skewer you on my claws for entering my quarters without my permission – not to mention that the entering was done quite violently."

He chuckled and kissed me. "Alright then. Please, do forgive me for denying you your satisfaction," he said and before I could voice my protest at his implication, he opened his spark casing and tendrils of energy shot between us. The enraged response died somewhere in my vocalizer and was promptly reborn as a deep moan of longing. I could feel my spark just cursing at me for not slamming myself to him the moment his spark was out in the open, but I had to stop and look at it for a click.

It was beautiful. Astonishing. Wonderful. _Perfection_. There was nothing like it in the whole universe, and there it was. For me. Only for me. Now… and forever. I tried to bring us together, to complete what we both knew was inevitable and right, but he held me back.

"Barricade…" I complained like a little sparkling, and he groaned, obviously trying to make the impending overload last just a bit longer. The energy still circulating through us both via our interface link had already made my sensors go on the fritz, and I suspected he wasn't much better off, but he still wanted to make it last.

"Cripplerip, is this what you want? A bond cannot be taken back," he reminded me, coming a fraction closer, making more tendrils of energy flare to life and fly between us. I gave out a loud, pleased moan before composing myself enough to answer.

"Barricade, we both know it will happen. My spark has been singing for yours ever since I first laid my optics on you. This isn't a conscious choice, and you know it."

"But do you want it?" he insisted. I was silent for a minute, contemplating his question as seriously as I could in my delirious state.

"Yes," I finally answered. "Yes, Barricade, I cannot think of a more befitting mech to be my… bonded. My sparkmate. My other half. It's only… you."

He didn't need any more conviction, and his spark lowered itself to me. As soon as I felt the contact, I lost whatever connection that I still had to the real world and succumbed to the ethereal world of sparks.

I saw all his feelings that he kept to himself, saw how he saw the other Decepticons, his family… And I knew he was seeing the same.

Then something clicked, and I wasn't alone anymore.

A rush of emotions almost swept me under, a hurricane of passion, love, lust and desire, mixed with the darker, underlying emotions of fear, anger and hatred, vengefulness and jealousy. I embraced it, and I felt the other half of my newly formed spark form another feeling for me to read and grasp. It was contentment, a feeling of rightness. We saw each other's pasts, and I was only vaguely surprised to learn that the Autobot second in command was his elder brother. It didn't matter. Barricade was a full-blown 'Con, and he was _mine_! And then I transmitted through the bond for the very first time before the overload hit us. It was only simple sentences and words, but it told him everything he'd ever truly need to know.

_:You are mine, and I am yours. Together, as one. Forever. __Bonded. Sparkmates.:_

_:Yes… Sparkmates.:_

* * *

First ever mature chap, yay for me… I hope no one got any permanent brain damage. R&R please! It makes for a happier authoress, and they write faster (we all know how slow I am normally…)


	5. The Creation of the Refugees

Last chappy with Crips, people! After this you won't be seeing her for a while, I think. Oh well, we'll see how it goes. I have a back-ground story for her life as well that I can write, if someone so wishes, though, if you got interested in her and want more. After this chapter there will be chapters with the characters you already know from my main story. First will be Cross, then Nightfall, and after that our very own Fast Forward! But whatever, that'll take some time…

Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I own the plot and the all characters unrecognizable from the any and all official TF series, since none of optimus prime 007's creations appear in this one.

Summary: **How Cripplerip come to the decision of betraying her cause, her leader and her bonded, and how she with the help of her most trusted femmes creates the hidden force known as the REFUGEES.**

* * *

**Universal POV**

The cell was dark and damp, the walls cold and metallic. The femme shackled to the very back of the cramped space resisted the urge to shiver at the uncomfortable surroundings, knowing that any and all signs of weakness could and would be mercilessly exploited to the benefit of her captors, her enemy, not to mention the pleasure if they managed to break her. She wasn't about to pleasure them.

She knew she had precious little time left. She'd already said her good-byes to her daughter and resigned herself to deactivation. She was fine with dying: the refugees would be strained more than ever before with the whole chain of command basically wiped out, but they'd manage somehow. She harbored a lot of trust to the young officers just learning to lead, and was confident that they'd be able to pick up the work where she'd left it. They would take charge, and rise again to protect the future generations and balance of power.

The femme shifted and lifted her legs to awkwardly protect the rest of her body as she glanced at her abdomen. She couldn't lie to herself: although she was totally fine with the situation the war and her allies were in, she wouldn't die without regrets. Although she sometimes wondered how things would have turned out if she'd just followed orders like a drone, she didn't regret disobeying, either. She didn't regret the assassinations she had committed as Megatron's number one killer. No, she regretted not being able to give birth to her unborn son, that despite her prowess in battle, she'd never be able to give him a chance to live, the same chance she'd given to so many other younglings like him, but who shared no such connection to her… Her poor son… He was doomed to be extinguished just as she was. _He_ would be ready to be born in a few dozen cycles or so. _She_ only had joors to live. And the worst part was, she'd only realized she was carrying after she'd began her last mission that ended in her capture and ultimately her death sentence.

The femme gave a wistful smile, wondering how the world was going to go on without her. Who'd win the war, and what would be left… And much to her surprise, she found that she really wished that Optimus Prime and his mixed group of hang-ons would be on the prevailing side. The irony of it all was biting, and she couldn't help but grin at the idea. What would they say if they knew…?

But it didn't matter. The fact was, she had a death sentence on her head, and no one was about to help her, certainly not the Autobots, after all she'd done to bring them down. She took an uninterested look at her meek surroundings. The soft but cold glow of the energy-charged bars of her cell lit her face in an almost magical way. She let out a loud, sad but accepting sigh, and spoke to the darkness, her sole companion.

"How did it ever come to this…?"

* * *

**8**** Earth years earlier, Cripplerip**

"You have to WHAT?!?"

_**CRAASH!**_

"Are _you_ -"

_**KLONK**__**!**_

"- trying to tell _me_ -"

_**Crash –KLRINNG!**_

"- that _you_ -"

_**WHAM**__**!**_

"- are about to go on a _mission_ -"

_**BANG!**_

"- in which you will _kill_, no, -"

_**BOOM!**_

"- _murder_ hundreds of innocent _younglings_?!"

_**CRAAAASHH!!!!!**_

"You heard me perfectly well."

"Aaaa-AAAAAAAHH!!!!" I screamed out of frustration and threw another piece of vulnerable furniture to meet its demise in colliding with the wall. I didn't even cared about the mess I made, or the fact that I'd have to clean it up later. Frag it all, my mate, my love, my bonded was about to undertake the lamest, most dishonorable and cowardly, even from my position the most despicable task of all.

"Who the frag has enough slag instead of a CPU to order an issue like that?"

"That, Cripplerip, would be Megatron. Should I pass your opinion on to him of his plan of action?"

"That's not a plan of action, that's the wussiest move I've ever even imagined. I can't believe that we've come so low as to attack the _younglings_! Our position doesn't even require an attack like that -" Barricade cut me off.

"It will distinctly lower their morale."

"Frag their morale with a frosting topping! I don't give a slag about their fraggin' morale! If we wanted to lower it, Megatron could send me to kill off a few of their officers! It would certainly be of more use than slaughtering our children."

"They are not our children." Another piece of furniture went flying as my immediate answer, but neither one of us took notice of the sharp remains of statues, vases and other pieces of decoration littering the floor in a dangerous fashion. We were both way too indulged in our "conversation".

"The frag they aren't, you are talking about the youngling sectors of Decagon, no? They are _packed_ with younglings, it's an emergency station, a _Neutral_ emergency station, and there are younglings from the Autobots and the Neutrals, yes, but also some of _ours_. We cannot risk it. Would you kill red-optics, Barricade? Red-opticed younglings like our daughter? Would you kill _her_ if we'd sent her there?"

"The order was issued already, Cripplerip, there's nothing left to speak about. I'll leave in the morning, and we will be there shortly after nightfall. We will attack when they go to recharge." I scoffed.

"So not only do you attack a bunch of younglings and femmes, you also do it at a time when they cannot even attempt to defend themselves or flee. That requires some bearings from you _warriors_," I hissed, "_because after that there's not going to be a place, even a hole on Cybertron where you won't be laughed at._ 'Uuh, look, here comes the great warrior Barricade. Did you know that he killed a femme and two sparklings while they were deep in recharge, and another youngling that was _awake_? '" I shook my head, completely disgusted. "My fraggin' hero." He growled.

"I'm doing this not because I want to be some fragging war-hero, that slag is for those Auto-losers, I'm doing this because it will take the Autobots down once and for all, since when they lose their sparklings, the sentimental fools lose their will to fight and live."

"And that is precisely where you go wrong, _dearest_. The Autobots may be guilty for being sentimental fools, there's no question about that, but have you ever encountered an Autobot mech that just lost his mate, or his sparkling?" I asked, and not waiting for an answer, continued with a grim face. "That is not a pretty sight. My squad was once ordered to wipe out a small settlement of Autobots near Kaon, since they were becoming an increasingly annoying distraction. One of the mechs on the base had his family with, for some unexplainable reason. One of our idiots, a CPU-defected slag-fragger, thought it funny to kill the femme and the son of that mech right in front of his optics. The mech was restrained for the show, but when he saw his family fall, he literally tore the restraints apart, and proceeded to do the same to the idiot that held the gun." I had a pause, in which I judged his reaction. He hadn't changed his visage in the least, but I could feel a small bit of doubt seep into his processor. Seeing my chance, I laid down the last part.

"We didn't find any parts of the mech bigger than his shin-guard. And his head was lost completely, or in so small pieces that we'd overlooked it as scraps." Barricade cleared his vocalizer.

"Be that as it may, we will crush them all. Acting violently may be their course of action when they lose only a few younglings, but if they lose them all at once, the Autobots will eventually break, and that's when we will be victorious. Once we take them _all_ down, mechs, femmes and sparklings alike, _we_ can live happily, and without fear of being put down where we should be able to stand proud and high. Don't you remember the reason we fight, Cripplerip?" My face twisted into a mask of pure hatred.

"_I do_, Barricade, and it wasn't to kill all Autobots. All I ever wanted was for them to see and acknowledge our plight, not wipe them out of existence. If we do that, we'll be no better than what they are – in fact, we'll be much worse!"

"This may be our only chance to cut the war short! You should understand the importance of that, you are the second in command of the femmes, damn it all!" My mate was starting to lose his patience as well. He cycled air deeply once before looking at me squarely in the optics, determined to make me see it his way. "Think about it: if we kill those Autobot younglings now, they won't be there to bother us tomorrow! It's not like the Autobots thought about it any differently…" I cut him off with a sharp slap to my thigh.

"Prime's aft covered in slag, Barricade, if that's how the Autobots would have thought, we wouldn't have survived this long. Is that what you want? This whole slag-round all over again, with our roles reversed? There will still be hunger, still be pain, and -"

"I will do anything to keep you and our sparkling safe. Besides," he said, giving an off-handed and calculated air about him, "better them than us."

That was the last straw.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and shut the bond. "Out." He gave no reaction, and I nearly lost what little patience I'd managed to salvage during our exchange and only barely held myself from tearing him apart right then and there. Instead, I drew out my claws and pointed at the door. "OUT before I rip your spark out with _your_ mace and fragging eat them _both_!" I screeched in a voice that would have impressed even Starscream (though he'd never admit it), and as a result, partly out of frustration, partly to protect his audios, my bonded stormed out, slamming the door as he went. As an answer, I picked the last surviving piece of deco from the nearby table and hurled it at the door, taking satisfaction in both the dissonant sound of breaking glass and metal as well as the small bump on the titanium door that a corner of the cubic piece had made. I growled almost silently.

How _dare_ he take on a mission like that…?

"Mama, what were you arguing about?"

I whirled around and somehow managed not to look as pissed off and betrayed as I felt and smiled at my first and only child. I hadn't even heard her wake up… Which wasn't such a surprise, considering the circumstances. The little femme was rubbing her optics, trying to get rid of the last signs of recharge. She'd always taken to spark the lessons me or Barricade told her, and one of them was never to show weakness of any kind, and always be on alert. She would go far, I just knew it despite her young age of only six vorns, and I reminded myself about cherishing her again as I hurried my way to her side.

"I'm sorry, darling, did we wake you up?" _Possibly the dumbest question of the day, congratulations, Cripplerip,_ I told myself dryly as I picked her up gently, nuzzling her face with my nose. "We were talking about your father's next mission. It's very important."

"You don't like it, do you Mama?"

Damn her being so accurate in evaluating my mood swings through the bond, even when I'm doing my best to send her only good feelings. Although this time, I supposed, the reason she noticed was because of the audio feed rather than the ethereal world of sparks and her uncanny knowledge of it. I sighed.

"Your Papa has a duty to perform, as we all do. It's not a question of whether we like it or not, it still has to be done. It's orders, and they must be followed. Your Papa and I know this very acutely. You'd do well to learn it as soon as possible as well."

"But Mama, what if the orders are wrong?" _Oh_ _great, here come the difficult questions_, I thought despairingly as I braced myself to answer anything my little femme had to ask. She was _not_ going to grow up as a mindless drone if it depended on me though!

"They are still orders, and if something goes wrong," I had to pause as a picture of the youngling sectors entered my mind. I shoved it aside. "If something goes wrong, the one who gave the orders will have to take the guilt and responsibility for it."

"What if it's Lord Megatron? Papa says that Lord Megatron is always right, and that even if something doesn't go as planned, it's because someone else failed to do his duty right during the mission, and that it's never Lord Megatron's fault." I was slightly pissed off at that.

"Lord Megatron is a mech as well, capable of making mistakes just like anyone else. The only difference is that yes, sometimes during the mission someone screws up and that's why it went wrong. Even the best thought out plan can become a catastrophe if a mech manages to fail something crucial, slips up or forgets something. _But_ it's also possible that the mission is doomed to fail the moment it is issued because of poor planning. Only Primus is perfect, or so they say. I wouldn't count on that either, though," I finished bitterly. I'd quit believing in Primus after my family had been destroyed all those years ago.

"What if you don't wanna do the mission? Can't you say no?"

I was really starting to feel uncomfortable. "If the orders sound wrong to you, you usually still can't really say that you won't do it. You can ask for the reason, but sometimes you won't get that either. But if you are just lazy and don't feel like working, then you should swallow your laziness and do it anyway. The faster you do it, the faster you can get back to loafing around."

"What if I do it fast, but I do something wrong?"

"Then you might make the situation even worse, and you'd have to go back and correct what you did wrong, maybe even at the cost of your own life. Chase," I addressed her, "my advice to you is simple. You don't have to do everything, but if you do something, put all your energy and your entire spark into it. Everything. Don't leave a single tendril of your spark away. And always finish what you start, don't leave a single thing half-made. If you do, it will come back and hinder you later, possibly in a situation not tolerant of it. That could mean the end of all things."

Her optics were so solemn, but I knew she didn't quite understand what I had just said. But she'd think about it, roll it in her processor for vorns if that's what it took to decode its meaning. She'd remember, and she wouldn't do anything else until she was done deciphering the code. Just as instructed.

"Mama -"

"Enough questions for now, little spark. You were supposed to be in recharge. You know it'll be an important day tomorrow for you, you'll be going to see the Academy for the first time… You'll have to be in perfect working order, since the whole chain of command will be there, starting from Megatron and down." I began to walk towards her room with the full intention of following to recharge afterwards. I could already feel her getting lax in my arms.

"Now, I don't want you to ask any questions, and answer or comment only when you are directly asked something, do you understand? These mechs are important, they do not tolerate any foolishness in the Academy. You'll enter the facility yourself in a year, and you want to leave a good impression on the head of the school, don't you?"

"Was his name Soundwave?" she asked sleepily, but shook her head to make herself look more alert. Just like we brought her up…

"No, Soundwave is Mama's boss. Or one of them, anyway. He's a tapedeck, you know, with Rumble and Frenzy and Ravage…? You remember him, don't you? A boxy, blue mech."

"Oh yeah, I remember Rumble and Frenzy. They are a bit lively, aren't they?"

I nearly laughed out loud at this. Our own sparkling wasn't exactly the calmest I'd ever encountered, and even to her the twin creations of Soundwave came out as "lively"? It was my luck that I'd been trained to keep my face the same, no matter what the situation was like.

"Yes, Rumble and Frenzy are rather eccentric, but they are also possibly the best hackers in existence. They are, despite their annoying natures, a very valuable asset to the cause."

"So if Soundwave isn't in charge of the school, then who is?"

I grimaced before I could help it. I'd never been all that fond of that particular mech. The only one I hated possibly more was the Autobot weapons specialist, for obvious reasons.

"You have seen him once before in your life-cycle, when you were very small. But I've told you his name in numerous occasions. He is called Shockwave, and he's in charge of the up-bringing of the up-coming Decepticon generations. He is a very trusted mech of Megatron -"

"You don't like him," Chase commented as I lay her back to berth. Damn her keen instincts.

"Not really, but it's just like with the duty-deal – you don't have to like everything. You just have to do it, since if you don't, your life will get that much tougher. Now, enough of this. Recharge, my sweet little spark, and get ready for tomorrow."

"Mmnot sweet…" she mumbled, already half in recharge. I smiled. My little warrior… My little hero.

**Approximately 2 weeks later**

"Mama, where are we going?"

"A place that you must see in order to see the universe truthfully," I answered crisply. This wasn't going to be beautiful, but I had to see it for myself, and my little femme had to understand the horrible mistake we'd done. She was already well on her way to getting brainwashed by the Decepticon propaganda, and in a vorn she'd be under the direct influence of Shockwave himself, the best propagandist the Decepticons had to offer. I couldn't let her become a drone like I'd seen some of our younglings turned into. No way.

The answer to her question was actually what was left of the Decagon youngling sectors. The assault had been a huge success, Megatron had gloated. What he meant was that there were next to no survivors. I hadn't heard of anyone surviving, be it Neutral, Autobot or Decepticon, youngling, femme or mech. The obliteration had been complete.

I very nearly snarled in disgust. Barricade had shown up after the mission, covered in dirt and energon. I'd nearly ripped him a new one, but had decided not to. I could no longer help those who had fallen, and I'd only rip apart what little we still felt for one another. After all, I still loved him, and he still loved me. We were still one.

Then I saw the smoking remains of Decagon.

"Prepare for landing, Chase."

"Yes, mother."

I carefully sought out a relatively safe looking place to land our small shuttle, and then proceeded to anchor us in place in case something bigger fell down and caused a minor earthquake. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, and I'd still seen a few sky scrapers left standing, but looked like they were doing so only out of some sick sense of duty.

The whole city was a mess. The streets were littered with rubble and larger pieces of what I supposed were once houses or big transports, and everywhere was the overpowering sense of sorrow, destruction and death. I smelled fire, and energon. Lots of energon. Although I'd never hesitated to show my youngling the uglier parts of the war before, for example I'd taken her with me to the med bay after a battle to see how Hook worked on the injured, I'd rather not have her look at a pile of rusting corpses of mechs and femmes her age. _I_ wouldn't want to look at it, and I was a professional killer.

"Follow, Chase, and stay close. Go by my footsteps, do not stray even once. These stones hold no love for you, and they will betray you if you walk on them carelessly," I warned her, not looking back to see if she did what she was told to do. I knew her. She'd listen. Sure enough, I heard the nearly silent pitter-patter of her feet as she scrambled to follow.

"Mom, I don't like this place," she said, trying to sound like she wasn't bothered by the atmosphere. I knew that she knew something was wrong, and she was feeling very apprehensive. It was good. It meant that her spark was telling her that this, although the work of elder Decepticons worthy of her respect, as for now, just wasn't right. She didn't know what was wrong, but she knew something was definitely wrong. A valuable trait, if she was to go down my path. It just might serve to save her life once.

"We aren't here to ponder on whether we like it here or not. We are here to witness something. Something big."

"You haven't told me anything, Mom. And why isn't Dad here? I'm sure he could scout ahead and check if there's anything funny up ahead."

"We don't need him to scout ahead – there's no one here. Not anymore. Now be silent, and watch where you step: the land gets tricky here."

We walked for a good while, until we reached our destination: the cliff-face from which you could see the main building of the youngling sectors' biggest establishment. I'd seen it once before, some vorns ago. I'd been prowling the streets after a particularly dirty mission that had involved killing a number of younger soldiers, barely old enough to be considered adults. I'd realized that it wasn't right for me to kill mechs so young, even with the purpose of avenging my family. They were dead, and no amount of spilled energon would, or could, ever fix that. I'd heard laughter, a sound I wouldn't have associated with my mood at all, and had seen a couple of youngling mechs chase each other across the courtyard. I'd stopped to see the children play inside. At that time, it had been a facility to house the children of the large middle classes while their parents worked, and it was the same if they were Autobot children or not, I knew it was dangerous for me to linger there, but I couldn't help myself. I felt I needed it, somehow.

The place was, in essence, an enormous school. The younglings had run around, playing and laughing and screaming like they were supposed to. It had been alight with a sense of life, and the inevitable chaos that 400 younglings inevitably cause when playing together. Only one thing had burned the otherwise perfect picture.

Two red-optics had huddled up in a corner, not playing with the others. One of the blue-optics laughed at them, called them names. One hid themselves in shame and fear; the other one started to beat the blue-optic until a care-taker split them and took the red-optic for a talk. When the blue-optic continued to boast about being better than the "Decepticon scrap", a blue-opticed femme walked up to him and hit him over the head, screaming something at him that was far too fast and high-pitched for me to understand at my distance. Then, to my astonishment, she went to the red-optic and comforted him until his friend came back. She smiled to them before returning to her friends to continue their interrupted play.

That's when my life had considerably changed. I didn't want to continue fighting for a dead family. I didn't want to fight for a cause that would erase the blue-optics either, as it was clear that that was Megatron's ultimate goal. I didn't want to fight for the Prime, because I knew his goal was to make everything go back to how it was before. And then we'd have to do everything all over again. It wouldn't work. No.

I decided to fight for the younglings, because even though I knew that it would take a long time, much more than my life cycle, to even partially fill the gorge between the people created by dozens millennia of mistrust and prejudice, it would have to be started in order to be completed. And I saw promise, in those younglings, I saw the promise of the future.

Which is also why I was so saddened and enraged to see the remains of the place in smoldering ruins, jutting out of the ground like some grotesque parody of a gigantic playground. It _reeked_ of death. Multiple deaths, deaths that should've been avoided. Deaths of younglings I'd sworn to protect…

"Mama, what's this place?" Chase asked, pressing to my side because of the unnatural, unexplainable sense of fear she was experiencing. I could feel her spark shudder through our bond, and I could feel the subtle trembles of her small body against mine that she tried to cover up. I ignored it, just this once, but did nothing to soothe her fear or sense of wrongness.

After all, why should I? The feelings were exactly right!

"This, my dear, was the biggest house of the Decagon youngling sectors. The big area in the middle was the play-ground where the younglings played when they didn't have any lessons. And those ruins were the houses in which they learned everything they'd need to know about basic living in our society. Or at least, the society that we were before this war."

"But... But there aren't any younglings here anymore, are there? You said there was no one here…"

I didn't even attempt to hide my sorrow, lust for revenge or my wrath from her. She whimpered and hid her face to my side. I rested my hand on her helm slightly, possibly one of the most comforting gestures I'd ever shown her. I barely managed to keep myself from screaming out my frustration and keeping my voice level for my youngling.

"Correct. There isn't anyone here. Not anymore. We aren't here to see anyone, but rather something. I, personally, am here to see my biggest failure. I made a vow to protect the younglings of our people, because that is where our future is, with our young. I failed to do that, and so I must face the consequences, just as I told you. If you screw something up, it'll come back to haunt you. And here I am."

"Why did you take me with? Mama, I'm _scared_…"

"Do not worry, there's nothing to harm us here, and you must see this."

"I don't wanna," she protested and hid her face deeper into my side. I wasn't having any of that, and stepped away from her. She let out a small sound somewhere between a cry and a gasp, and then I was behind her, holding her head to that she had no choice but to look.

"Watch closely, Chase. Watch and learn well. This is what happens when mechs like Megatron get what they want. Do you want to know why there aren't any more younglings and sparklings and laughter here?"

"No!" she yelled and thrashed, but I wasn't about to give in. In a steady, monotone voice, I talked right next to her audio so she'd hear every word acutely in spite of her struggles and screams.

"They aren't here anymore because they are dead. Off-line. All of them. There were over a thousand sparks here, Chase. _Over a thousand_. That is about three times as much as in our entire base. And Megatron ordered them all to be killed. None were spared. There were new-born sparklings here, dozens. They were Autobots. Neutrals. Some were even Decepticons. And they were all killed without a second thought. Wiped clean out of existence with a volley of plasma rounds or the swing of an energon-blade."

"Stop it, Mama! I don't want to know!"

"Oh, but you must. In order to understand, you must learn this. This is what Decepticons do, Chase. This is what you will do if you let Megatron and Shockwave fill you with their thoughts. You must keep independent. At any cost."

"I will, I will! Just like you and Papa, I'll keep them out of my head and do what I think is right!" I knew it was going to hurt her more than anything I'd said so far, but she had to know, had to know…

"But that's just the worst part of it, my darling. Even those who you trust the most cannot be trusted to hold on to their independence. Chase…" I held a little pause. "_Your father led the mission here_."

Her scream of denial filled the air, and it was all I could do to stop the tears from running down my cheeks at her broken spark. She loved Barricade just as I did, but with a naivety that had just cost her a whole lot of pain. I let go of her head, and she spun around to throw herself in my arms, and her whole frame shook with her sobs that she didn't even try to suppress. I let her cry. It was her right to mourn for the losses of life as well as the loss of her unwavering trust to her other creator, a trust that had been broken in the most brutal of ways. After a few breems, she quieted down.

"Why?" Her voice broke.

Such a simple question, yet the answer was as complex as life itself. To me, it also held a valuable piece of information: with that much feeling, that much sadness and pain for the loss of lives, she could never become a true Decepticon, no matter how much Shockwave would try to seduce her to his ways. Her optics may have been the same burning, scorching red as mine, the same as Megatron's, but her spark burned blue.

"It's the same reason that Megatron started this war. It's always the same reason, when you talk about what the Decepticons do. Do you already know what that reason is? Think about the history lessons you've been to."

She shivered and sobbed, acting more like the youngling that she was than I'd ever seen her act. "I-It's bec-cause of the Autobots and their ways. Megatron freed us from their oppression, slavery, prejudice and certain doom. But their leader, Optimus Prime, and his horde of demented followers are trying to take us back, so that they can enslave us all over again through torture and punishment. Because of that, all blue-optics must be obliterated and their legacy extinguished."

It sounded like she learned that as a list of words somewhere, and was just mechanically repeating it. I hated it. She sounded like a drone.

"Wrong."

"But that's what they taught us in the academy just ten cycles ago! Shockwave said so himself!"

"He is the biggest load of slag I've seen in my entire life-cycle, and I've seen some pretty big slagheaps in my time! Listen and listen carefully, Chase." I looked at her sternly, and she quieted any further protests she might have wanted to voice.

"_This_ war began, true, because of the way the red-optics were treated, but _I_ was certainly not going to fight to kill half of our race! I hated them, yes, and I wanted them to know, to _see_, how much we'd suffered while they had lived in their high towers of glass and steel, how our families had starved, how they'd been calling out for help, only to be turned down… I wanted them to feel that pain, that sense of helplessness, and in a way I still do, but killing them isn't going to work. And I'm not about to kill any younglings, either, blue-optics or not. They haven't done anything, so I'm not going to reap my revenge on their heads." I sighed before continuing, in a calmer, more controlled tone of voice.

"Look, it is true that Megatron led us from the darkness and showed us that we could take the place that is rightfully ours, but what he wanted was to take over the system for himself. That's not why we followed. That wasn't our goal, it never was. We didn't follow because we wanted to overthrow the Council, or because we wanted him as our Prime, or even because of revenge. He promised us equality among everyone, femme or mech, Autobot or Decepticon or something in between. He promised us food, shelter, _safety_. After a lifetime of hiding and fear, that was the sweetest thing we could hear. And the most terrible lie. All we wanted was the right to walk the streets with our heads held high without the fear of being hunted down and prosecuted for no reason."

I held a pause. "He once said: 'I will bring peace to the Decepticons, and another peace to the Autobots.' I just never realized it was the peace of the _grave_ he was talking about…" I finished my monologue with a disgusted and sorrowful glance at the ruined landscape.

"Careful there, Cripplerip, someone might think you are going to revolt with opinions like that. Well, with opinions in general," warned a cool voice somewhere to my left. I immediately went to killer-mom-mode and shoved Chase behind some boulders in case the intruder decided to open fir before whipping out my claws and whirling into a defensive position, facing whoever it was that caught me off guard. I was pissed at myself for making the mistake of letting someone to have the drop on me, but I was certainly not going to make another mistake.

That mech was living on borrowed time, time that was quickly running out.

"You have about two astroseconds to get your aft in the open before I dig you out. I promise you, even the rubble is going to feel sorry for you if I have to do that."

"Wow, easy, I just pointed out that you should be more careful about giving lectures like that. I didn't say that I didn't agree," I knew the voice from somewhere, but where could I have -?

Then the femme stepped out into the open and my frame relaxed, if only a fraction.

"Stitch. What are you doing here?"

"The same as you: checking the sights. It's changed from the last time we saw it, huh?"

I snarled. "Don't play with this."

"I'm not." She took a few steps closer to the edge of the cliff and looked thoughtfully down.

Stitch was the mate of Hook, the CMO of the Decepticons, and his right hand in the med bay, but almost no one knew her. I carefully counted her among my few friends. She was usually fairly quiet, and many judged her wrongly, thinking that she was a dainty femme that couldn't stand up to anyone, and would have been better off with the Autobots. Her lightly built frame was only strengthening the assumption, and she was fine with it. I, however, knew better.

She was a ruthless medic, if you can say that. In the beginning, I'd wondered why she never took any spare parts or even energon packages with when we went out to the field. I'd confronted her about that once. She'd given me a smile so cruel that I'd nearly backed down.

"_Why," she asked, still that smile in place, "would I need spare parts or energon in the battlefield? It's not like no one's going to die, and after that, I can use their earthly remains as materials." She'd giggled, a sound that had shivers running up and down my spinal relays in a very unpleasant way. "Recycling is a virtue when you are at war, isn't it? Our resources aren't infinite, after all…"_

Many called it sadism. She called it resourcefulness. In any case, it _had_ saved quite many lives and resources, and Hook and Megatron both approved.

But I couldn't see even a trace of that quiet but self-secure femme in the figure in front of me. She looked almost… frail. Which wasn't something I had never associated with her. But we were never ones for pep talks.

"How much did you hear?" I demanded roughly. She smiled.

"The tail end, but even that was enough to tell me that you don't really approve of Lord Megatron's methods."

"Well what did you -" I cut off as I detected a little bit of movement in the rubble where Stitch had emerged from. "Come out," I ordered. I got a small whimper.

"Patch, there's no need to worry. Come to me," Stitch said in a motherly tone. A flash of metal and her little femling was in her arms, peeking at me behind her mother's forearms. But her presence raised a huge, gaping question. One that I didn't hesitate to ask.

"Why in the _Pit_ would the leading Decepticon femme medic take her daughter to a place like _this_?"

"Why in the Pit would the leading Decepticon femme assassin take _her_ daughter to a place like this?" she countered calmly. I didn't answer, and she gave in. "The leading Decepticon femme medic takes her daughter to a place like this for the exact same reason that I suppose the leading Decepticon femme and her daughter are here for."

"The sights?" I suggested.

"To show how much of a mistake this blasted war is."

I retracted my claws and beckoned Chase back to me, glancing at the few vorns older Patch still hiding in her mother's arms. I smiled, one of the few genuine smiles I'd had for the last few orns.

"Come, Patch, there's no need to be shy. You know me. You are here to see, aren't you?" I turned to face Stitch. "Does Hook know you're here?" Her snort was enough of an answer, but she elaborated.

"Of course not. He wouldn't take kindly to finding out that my views of this war have just radically changed.e wouldn'tHefmkgnefjognfjvnfenvjnfrneg" I grinned.

"Careful there, Stitch, one would take it for certain that you were harboring revolutionary thoughts with opinions like that." Her smiled amusedly.

"Good. That's what I was trying to get across." She gave me a look. "Does Barricade…?"

"He knows nothing, for the exact same reasons."

I glanced at the younglings who were eyeing each other suspiciously, but not unkindly. I realized, with a shock, that they'd never been introduced. I'd known Patch since she was a little crawling bundle of curiousness on the med bay floor, and Stitch had known Chase before she was even in her own body, but the two youngsters had never seen each other.

"Patch, why don't you take Chase and go look for anything useful that might still be intact in the rubble?" I asked, needing to speak with Stitch alone. Automatically, the little femme looked at her mother for confirmation.

"Cripplerip has a point, dear. That way we would have a believable alibi for being here in the first place, should someone find out about our expedition. Besides, the medical facilities here were top of the line, and ours could use some serious upgrades. Take Chase and go look for anything useful there. They are a half a klik away, northbound. But be careful, don't climb on anything unstable-looking, or go under anything the looks even a little bit weakened. Walk around spots like that, even if it takes a while," she instructed her daughter who immediately took off with Chase in tow. We followed them with our gazes until they disappeared after struggling over a huge piece of deformed steel. Then she asked me gingerly, almost afraid to break the silence that had settled in the play-ground-turned-grave-yard:

"Can I ask you some personal questions and trust you not to tell them to anyone else?"

"If you trust me, Stitch, then I'm going to have to report you to Hook about a CPU-failure."

"I'm being serious, Cripplerip. Can I trust you?"

"…Yes. I suppose you can."

"Do you think any of the other femmes or mechs feel like we do?"

"Absolutely. I personally know many femmes who lost their own young or someone close here in Decagon. But I doubt we'd get much of the same opinions from the _mechs_. Barricade, at least," I spoke the name with venom, "was of the opinion that this was a completely logical and acceptable thing to do, the fragger."

"That's what Hook said as well, that the younglings here didn't matter." She was quiet for a few moments. "Do you think there will be a counter-revolution?"

"If yes, it will be crushed down without a doubt. Megatron has so many empty-headed followers that there's no way a straight-forward approach to face the problem would be possible. The revolutionists would simply throw their lives away. Megatron's army is just too strong."

"So you don't think it would be possible, no way?"

"No, I don't believe in that. Not without outside help, a lot of it."

"And even if there was a chance at arranging some kind of a rebel force, the only ones able to support that force would be the Autobots. I don't think they like us enough, though."

"Hmm," I confirmed and we fell into a short, contemplating silence. Then Stitch spoke again.

"Some will try to seek retribution in any case."

"They will throw their lives away," I repeated myself, not really putting any effort into it. My anger had subsided for the moment, and all I felt was an overwhelming sense of wrongness and sorrow. Stitch shook her head energetically.

"No, not if someone organizes them to try something more tactful." I rolled my optics.

"_How_, pray tell, does one seek retribution by rebelling against your own leader _tactfully_?"

"It's not easy, but I'm sure you'll figure something out," she smirked at me. It took me a moment to get her message.

"Oh no you don't. I'm not going to do anything of the sort!" I declined and we fell into another not-lasting silence, all four optics surveying the landscape destroyed by the blitz-attack.

The more I thought about her idea, the more it actually started making sense to me. We _could_ organize some sort of an underground society against the 'Cons, we _could_ do it without the Autobots knowing about it and interfering with it, and that way, we _could_ do exactly what I'd vowed to do those vorns ago.

We could protect the younglings.

I made my choice.

"So… what you are suggesting is that we -"

"You," she corrected. I looked at her meaningfully.

"WE," I repeated and she raised her hands in a mock sign of defense, "organize a full-scale underground faction directly under the nasal plates of not only Megatron, Shockwave and Soundwave, who by the way is the strongest telepath alive, but also of both our bondeds, who know all our secrets and have a direct view to what lies in our sparks?" She nodded vigorously, still smiling that infuriating smile of hers.

"And that this underground faction consists of defected, rebellious Decepticon femmes that we don't even know if we'll find, and that we will lead them -"

"You will lead them," she tried again.

"WE will lead them to a war against two armies that vastly outnumber us even alone, without any support from any outside group?"

"Yes." Smile. Grr.

"Did you know that we are, tactically speaking, committing a suicide with a move like that? First of all, that's a two-front war, something that even a junior tactician would call the frag-up of the millennia. Second of all, it's against two forces that are numerically, resourcefully and in every other way superior to us. And you want to start a war with those odds?!"

"We're not starting a war, it's an underground operation," she explained like I was a sparkling. Then I threw my trump-card on the table.

"Like that isn't enough, we're talking about betrayal of the worst kind." She snorted.

"I'm not concerned of the Decepticons finding out about that," she said. I nodded.

"Me neither. I'm more concerned about my bond-mate." She flinched, and we fell into silence.

For a while, we were both quiet. Then Stitch sighed.

"It seems that no matter what we do, we must betray someone's trust. Either we rebel and betray our mates, or we keep doing this and betray ourselves," she concluded quietly. I exhaled air forcibly in response.

"It's just another decision to make, Stitch, nothing new."

"This decision hurts."

"So does getting shot, and we still volunteer for a possibility to get shot every day, don't we? It comes down to this: What is worth the hurt? What is our reason to fight? When we have that, we can decide how to best pursue it."

She contemplated for a minute.

"I… want safety. Reason. Equality like it was in the very beginning. Just… justice, the same for everyone. Freedom."

"Do you think Megatron is able to fulfill that?"

She didn't hesitate.

"No."

"Maybe with the Autobots, then?"

"No, they want it to go back to how it was right before the war – they want their High Council, their system, their reality -"

"And our ghettos," I finished dryly. "I think you are right. Neither of them will do it like we want it to be done…"

She laughed weakly. "Aren't I supposed to be the one trying to get you to do this?" I smirked.

"Maybe you already convinced me." She smiled back, but sobered after a second.

"You will have to be the one leading, though. I'm not capable of that. I'll admit any day that I make a Pit of a good second, but I can never lead. I simply don't have it in me. You are, and always will be, the stronger one of us." I frowned.

"This is your idea."

"Like you weren't thinking about it?" she countered. I ignored it.

"So you plan on just giving me this idea of rebelling and then you're just going to walk away, is that it?" I demanded heatedly. She stayed calm. She always did.

"Wrong. I'll be beside you every step of the way, but I will not be the leader of anything. There are multiple reasons for that. First off, I'm not made of a material hard enough like you are. You can handle the pressure. Secondly, I don't know enough. You, on the other hand, have all the intel you want, mainly because of your position in the Decepticon ranks and your skills as a hacker and a saboteur. And thirdly, I don't have a big enough reputation to give me credibility. I'm known as a decent medic. You are the second of the Decepticon femmes, you have the most successful assassinations and sabotage missions probably in the whole army, and you do have a reputation as a resourceful, powerful femme."

I growled, but knew she was right. Those were cold hard facts, not opinions. But I just couldn't let it happen like this! "I disagree."

"With what?"

"I… You… We… YOU ARE AN EXCELLENT MEDIC!" I screamed the first coherent thing that came to my head in my defense. I wanted to slap myself for it. Stitch tried and failed to stifle her laughs.

"It's true, slaggit!" I told her and proceeded to growl profanities under my breath until she calmed down.

"I appreciate that, but it isn't good enough. In any case, I'm not fit to lead. _You_ have to do it."

"Frag you," I suggested. She giggled.

"I think I'll let Hook do just that when we land. He's been frustrated these past few cycles because I've been avoiding him for going with this mission -"

"Thanks, that is enough of your interfacing life for the next, oh I don't know, eternity? Just… stop." I shuddered. Hook was basically my re-creator, I didn't need to know when he wasn't getting laid as often as he'd want to. Stitch smirked.

"Sure, sorry to corrupt your innocent processor."

"I'll show you innocent," I said, but looked at her fondly. She turned to look at where the younglings had disappeared. A thought occurred to me.

"Are you going to tell Patch?"

"Tell her what?"

"That you are rebelling?"

"No. She'll only find out if I know that my life is going to end in the near future, and even then, not from me directly. Too dangerous. I'll have someone do that for me when the time comes for her to follow."

"I'm counting on that someone being me, so I'll make you a deal. I'll tell Patch if it comes down to that, and you'll tell Chase. Deal?"

"Deal."

We shook hands to seal it.

"You do know that this means that it's official?" she asked me.

"Damn if I have to "officialize" our rebellion. This is getting complicated. How about this: we keep it a secret just between the two of us and the recruits you will seek out that are deemed trustworthy enough to talk to."

"Why do _I_ have to find new recruits?"

I gave the most evil smile I could possibly manage. "Because I'm the High Commander and you are only the second-in-command." She looked sour.

"You dirty fragger."

"It was your idea."

"It was a bad one."

"I could have told you that," I stated, then caught movement from some distance away. "Ah, the younglings are here." I turned to Stitch, who was quietly glowering at me. I smiled again. "Let's not let them wait. I'll give you a lift home." With that, we started to head for the sparklings and turned our backs on Decagon's nightmare.

* * *

**Two vorns later, Decepticon main base, hangar**

I watched Stitch pack up the last of her gear.

Yes, her gear. She was actually taking supplies with her this time.

"You are really going," I muttered. She sighed, pausing and looking at me and then checking that we couldn't be overheard.

"Yes, we don't have any other choice. In order for our operation to stay in secrecy, or at least to have a chance at that, I must go. Now. Before they get suspicious."

"It's going to be the biggest massacre of our history."

"I… I know. And that's exactly why I can't turn it down. If I'm not there, it could be that the whole operation goes wrong. The Autobots _must_ survive this battle." I growled.

"That's not an operation, that's organized murdering."

"However you want to call it, old friend, but that's exactly what is going to happen at Tyger Pax."

"I still don't get why you have to be there." She sighed, and I agreed with her. I'd asked the same question more times than either one of us wanted to know. I knew the answer. I did. I just didn't want to comprehend it. I didn't want to comprehend the consequences.

"Lord Megatron commanded us, my medical group, to accompany the front lines and make sure that not too many of our troops offline. And also to make sure that all the Autobots do."

"Which you are spectacularly going to fail at, I take it?"

"It's really a shame to disappoint my superiors, but I don't think I'll survive the battle, so it's actually pretty meaningless. Talking about my untimely demise, you must give this to Patch once the dust has settled. Make sure she doesn't become a merciless, sparkling-murdering, mad femme, will you?"

She handed me a datapad, completely ordinary-looking and unimpressive. But to me, it held all the meaning in the world. For the first time in a long time, I felt the tears of loss sting my optics.

"You are going to die." It was not a question.

"Yes."

"You aren't even going to try to save yourself. You are going there to die."

"For the cause, yes."

"Why?"

"Because I can't serve truthfully unless I can fight for what I believe in." I didn't look at her. "Cripplerip, I'm sorry. I really am, but I need to do this."

"What are we going to do without you? What am I going to do without you…?" I asked quietly, reaching for her hand. She smiled sadly, taking my hand and giving it a light squeeze.

"The same thing that you always did. I told you a few vorns ago, in the ruins of Decagon, that you were stronger than I was. That's why I'm going to die and you will live on."

I looked at her, seeking any sign in her optics that would tell me that she was still in my reach, that it was still possible to talk her out of this.

I didn't find any. Despairingly, I threw myself at her and hugged her so tightly it must have hurt. She did the same, digging her head to my shoulder.

"You better make it worth it, Stitch. You better make it worth something!" I sobbed, resisting the urge to bite her for doing this.

"I will… I will…" she said, her voice even, but I felt the quakes rocking her body as she cried with me.

We stood like that for breems before she let go of me, and I reluctantly stood back. Her face was streaked with tears, but she was grinning triumphantly.

"Tell Patch I love her, okay?"

"I promise to not let her forget it." I meant it. She nodded and gave one of her rare predatory expressions.

"Good. Now then, time to betray everything I've fought for. Wish me luck?"

"I already am. Wind at your back, sister."

"May no storm hinder your flight, sister," she finished the old Seeker saying that our troops had grown accustomed to wish each other before a mission. After that, she turned and walked away, leaving me to stand in the hangar with a datapad relying her last words to her small daughter.

I never saw her again.

* * *

**Three cycles later, the same hangar**

They were coming back. The survivors of Tyger Pax were about to land, and as I stood right at the hangar exit with the daughter of my second-in-command, I knew she was dead. It wasn't that we'd heard of any casualties being named, it was Patch's face.

Just five breems ago, it had still glowed with the anticipation of seeing her mother again, no matter in what state of function. The problem was, Stitch hadn't gone there to function in the first place. And little by little, as the shuttles touched down, Patch's face started to show signs of panic.

"Cripplerip ma'am, why can't I sense my mother's presence? They couldn't have forgotten her there, could they? I mean, she is the head of the femme medics! She's too important to be left behind." Then she gasped and whirled at me. "What if the Autobots took her captive and are torturing her for information? I have to get to her."

"Patch, calm down. Speculating won't do us any good. We'll find the head of operations and ask him where your mother is situated."

It didn't take long to find the mech. He was in the corner of the hangar where the fallen soldiers were brought in order to later be either used for parts or smelted, depending on their state. He looked like something that crawled out of the scrapper's tail end. His right arm was missing, his back was scorched with plasma fire and his face looked more like the hind end of a turbo fox with a system's upset than a normal face plate.

He was also offline.

"Okay, he's not going to tell us anything, I think. We'll ask Soundwave, he's sure to know everything by now," I decided and dragged the little femme away from the mangled corpse. But I couldn't walk even five steps before she screamed shrilly and tore away from me, dashing down the row of bodies and screeching to a halt between two big, offline mechs. She stared and screamed again, falling to her knees. I didn't have to guess what she was looking at.

I did the only thing I could. I went to her and wrapped my arms around her. She was crying hysterically over Stitch's body, and didn't hear anything I said to her. I spared one look at my fallen comrade. Her cause of death was obvious: the holes in her middle were the size of a mech's head, and there were multiple, overlapping one another. One shot had hit her through the spark chamber. I could only hope it had been the first one, so that she hadn't suffered. Her left leg was almost completely torn off by another one of the blasts. Whoever had shot her had carried some mean machinery.

I tore my gaze from her broken body and looked at her face. It wasn't the serene face I'd expected, but it wasn't alarmed either. Her mouth was hanging slightly open, her optics still half open and staring into nothingness. If death had a face, that was it.

"M-Moom! Mom, wake up! Mama! Stop it, please! Mom!"

"Patch, we need to go."

"No, my Mom's there, she's hurt why isn't there a medic here -?"

"She's gone already –"

"NO! She's not offline, she can't be, she wouldn't do that to me, never! She needs help, don't you get it?!"

I knew she wouldn't listen to me, so I simply lifted her up. Her screams of protest were ignored by both me and anyone else in the hangar, even Hook wasn't paying attention to her. I gathered, from his hollow expression, that he'd already learned of his bonded's fate. But he was taking care of his duties nonetheless, repairing any injured that were sent to him in his usual, non-too-friendly manner. The only difference was that he was quiet about it.

I carried Patch all the way to her quarters and dumped her on the berth.

"Now listen up, and listen up good," I began, but paused to stop her from climbing off the berth and zooming off back to the hangar.

"PATCH!" I roared, and she became still, only giving soft whines every now and then. I stared down at her, hard.

"Your mother gave me something to give to you before she left, but I have to tell you, you won't like what she wrote. It's about you, your father and her, and me as well."

"What, you had some k-kind of an affair with M-M-Mom behind Dad's back or something?" she asked. In any other situation, I would have laughed. She was showing the spirit that Stitch had had, with the disposition she inherited from her father.

"I wish it was that simple, femling. But no, we didn't have an affair. Before I give you the datapad, I need you to promise me never to tell a soul about it unless you have told that to me first, understand? The lives of many depend on it."

She looked at me with distrust I'd never seen in her optics before. "Why should I promise something like that?"

"You'll understand after you've read the datapad. Can you promise me that?"

She was quiet for a second.

"Okay. I promise. If it's from my mother, I'm ready to do anything to get it." I handed her the datapad and watched her expressions carefully as she read it. At first, her optics rimmed with unshed tears. Then her optic ridges furrowed together, and her expression changed to that of disgust. Finally, her optics relaxed in a tired fashion, as if she understood, even if she was very reluctant about it. "I see," was all she said.

"Many of us died in Tyger Pax. But the cause lives on, as Stitch lives on in you. She was a great warrior, never forget that. And always be proud of who you are and who your mother was."

"I will, but… I need to be alone for a while." I nodded, understanding her pain. After all, I'd gone through the same thing myself.

"I understand. When you are ready to learn more, come and find me. You know where I am."

She nodded and I left the room. Even in the hallway, I could hear her cries of anguish bounce off the walls, and I prayed that it would take a long, long while before my daughter would have to cry like that.

* * *

**Three vorns later, Cripplerip's personal quarters**

_**Coded message, directed to Solarscream, Seeker leader of the refugees, from Cripplerip, the leader of the refugees**_

_The time is up. I cannot wait any longer. Project Avatar is nearly complete, and if Megatron has the possibility to send it against Iacon, they will be overrun in an instant. I must act, and I do not think I'll make it out of this alive__, or at least not without being captured, and we both know what that means. I will send Project Avatar with the few trusted femmes still working undercover to the coordinates given to you the last time we talked. Be ready with a pick-up, some heavy fire and two fast transports, one has to be big enough to fit Project Avatar in it. This will happen in exactly four cycles, two joors after sundown. I will not be accompanying you. I need you to lead the refugees from now on. I'm sorry to put the burden on you, but from all of the refugees, it is you who's struck me as someone capable of leading us out of this mess._

_Don't let the younglings down.__ And if the Autobots show any signs of being able to take care of red-optic younglings, send them all to them, both 'Con- and 'Bot-borns. Protect the future of our race!_

_Wind at your back, Solarscream. Until all are one._

I signed the message and gave it to a tiny robot one of the refugee femmes had designed as a messenger and watched it fly out of the window. The destination was pre-programmed, and it was also programmed to self-destruct if someone tried to access the files before it reached the destination. Not the best or safest possible means of sharing intel, but it was the only thing we had after our whole Communications team was supposedly taken down by Soundwave. They had tried to finally liquidize one of the biggest threats to refugees and Autobots alike, and had failed. We hadn't heard of them since, and naturally supposed them dead.

Since the Tyger Pax catastrophe the Decepticons had found out about the refugees, and many femmes had already been captured and killed for treason. Not only that, but in the battle itself, more than half of our Seekers had been shot down. The whole old chain of command, save myself, was wiped out. I'd ordered whoever was left to hide in the ancient structures underneath Cybertron's surface, cities as old as our race, putting a young Seeker femme, Solarscream, in charge. I'd continued to spy for the refugee cause within the 'Con headquarters. They hadn't discovered me. Yet. But they knew that someone was inside the circle, and Soundwave was quickly narrowing down his list of suspects. That was another good reason for acting now.

The reason I'd given Solarscream was even more pressing than my personal safety. Project Avatar was actually a single mech, but his form had been altered so much that his own mother wouldn't have recognized him. They even changed his optics to red. I knew he was one of the illegal descendants of Decepticon warriors and Autobot slaves, and had been subjected to experiments since his birth. Now Hook had turned him into what could only be described as a walking weapons silo. But he was still sentient. That was the last piece of programming that Hook needed to change, erase his consciousness, before Avatar, as they called him, would be ready to be dropped into the heart of the Autobot city Iacon to destroy it. And destroy it he would.

His armor didn't have any weak spots, his weaponry was superior to even Megatron's own fusion cannon, and he was much larger than any mech I'd ever seen, towering over Blackout with two heads at least. The Autobots wouldn't have a chance, and since I'd come to the opinion that the refugees themselves could never rule over Cybertron, the Autobots could not be allowed to be wiped out. They were our only hope

I collected whatever I'd need for the mission, mainly explosives and sabotage tools, before sneaking into my daughter's room. Barricade was overseeing a mission near the ruins of Praxis, and we were alone.

Chase, now eleven vorns old, was recharging peacefully. I watched her for a moment, wishing her luck and sending her all my love through the bond, something I'd never been big on doing. She smiled in her recharge, shifted her position but didn't wake up. I kissed her forehead, walked to the door, out, looked behind me once more… and closed it.

In the hangar, the 14-vorn-old Patch was already waiting. She was sitting on a box of supplies, hanging her legs over the edge and waving them slightly. She looked up when she noticed my approach.

"What took you so long?" she asked. I smirked.

"I had a sentimental moment."

"Right."

"I thought this place was guarded at night."

"It is."

"Then how come we are speaking in the open like this? I don't know what they teach you in the med bay, but the first rule of sneaking around at an unholy time of night is that you make sure the guards don't suddenly burst from somewhere and start asking difficult questions." She looked at me like I'd told her she'd look better if she was painted a hot pink with neon green stripes at random intervals.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? I knocked them out." She tapped the box she was sitting on. "What did you think I packed into this box?"

"No offense, but you don't pack enough punch to knock out even a youngling mech your age, much less a fully matured Decepticon soldier."

"Who said anything about punching? I used my poison. They'll recharge un-peacefully until two cycles from now. They won't remember anything, and I already smeared them with enough high grade to knock out even Blackout. Everyone will think that they drunk themselves full and passed out on duty. That's brig time for them, if I'm not mistaken. And I know I'm right."

Silence.

"You are a real fragger, you know that?" she abruptly asked. I almost laughed, but managed to only cock my optic ridge.

"How did you figure that out?"

"You are doing the exact same thing that Stitch did before Tyger Pax. You didn't even say good-bye. She didn't either." She hadn't called Stitch 'Mom' since I'd left her to cry her spark out after Tyger Pax.

Sudden pain constricted my chest, but I didn't let it show. I knew I was hurting my sparkling, my only child, but I had to, in favor of hundreds of other sparklings.

"She'd raise a huge circus about it. It's easier to make a sneaky sabotage mission when you don't have a howling youngling hanging from your neck," I explained. "But you are right, I am a fragger for doing that." She nodded knowingly.

"I know I'm right. I always am. I just wanted you to know that."

"Know that you are always right or know that I'm a fragger?"

"Both." I smiled, shaking my head. She was so much like her mother had been, but with Hook's outspoken manner. It was hilarious to watch.

"Okay, enough of this. Which shuttle is mine?"

"The one in the end, right side. Big enough to carry the mech, and small enough to pilot without huge difficulty."

"Perfect." I took a step towards the shuttle before turning back to the femme. She was still looking at me with that serious face she'd adapted from the med bay and her father's teachings. I quickly subspaced the datapad I'd written earlier to Chase where I explained everything to her, handing it over to Patch. It was written in a language Chase and I had invented in one of our games of espionage, a code only the two of us knew about. "I almost forgot. Give this to Chase when they leave her alone for enough time for her to read it in peace, okay? And make sure she promises to keep her mouth shut about it first." Her optics darkened as she took the datapad.

"This is the same thing that Stitch told you to give me before she left. A death note."

"Correct. Will you give it to her?"

"Sure, but why me?"

"Because she trusts you, and because Stitch and I swore that we'd tell the other's sparkling about the refugees when we knew we were dying."

"And since she can't do it herself because she's already dead, you are shoving it to me." She considered it for a moment, then shrugged. "Fair enough."

"I was counting on you saying that," I admitted. Then I walked away.

"Wind at your back, Commander!" Patch called after me.

"May no storm hinder your flight, Patch."

* * *

**Present**

I wondered if Barricade would come again to try and convince me into talking. He'd come at least once a cycle since he'd discovered my betrayal, but I hadn't told him a thing. I had to admit, he had been creative in his ways of trying to make me talk, begging, threatening, screaming, staring and once even interfacing with me just to make me say what I knew and beg for forgiveness. I hadn't. Five cycles ago, he'd suddenly stopped coming. Then, three cycles later, he'd come to drop the bomb on me.

"I'll be your executioner. You will die to a sword through your spark chamber. You have two cycles."

My time was up. It was just waiting…

_Up until this moment_, I thought to myself as I heard the heavy footsteps of four mechs traveling down the hall, and halting in front of my cell. I didn't know any one of them, and we didn't speak. They unshackled me and lead me down the hall and outside.

I briefly blinked at the setting sun's light, and then I looked at the gathered mass of mechs and femmes. They were all here to see me die. _How thoughtful of them_, I thought bitterly. I started my last journey, descending to the crowd, the mechs and femmes parting to make room for me and my four shadows.

I wasn't afraid to die. I wasn't ashamed. I was suddenly calm, determined, and strangely enough, I felt even victorious. I lifted my head up high, impervious to the jabs and jeers of the crowd as I walked. I took the time to take a look at the two platforms built to the other end of the square.

On the smaller one stood my mate in all his glory, a sword in hand and looking so handsome. Despite everything, I still loved him. I was horribly disappointed in him, but I loved him. And I knew he loved me, too. His face was devoid of all emotion, but his optics spoke volumes to me. Hurt, love, betrayal, hate… it all mixed into a look that I knew I was mirroring in his optics.

I turned my look at the other platform. On it was Megatron with his mate and their closest advisors. Starscream was openly smiling, and I knew that Soundwave was, in some level, disappointed in me. Megatron's face was expressionless, but Thunderblast looked murderously at me. I knew it ate at her ego to know how long I'd been able to fool her. And I had no doubt that Starscream took every moment possible to jab at her about it.

I reached Barricade's platform and rose up. Once there, two of the four big mechs forced me to my knees. I looked at Barricade, but he didn't meet my gaze. _One point for me, no points for sparkling-murdering fraggers._

Megatron spoke.

"This is your last chance, traitor. Tell us what you know and you will be spared."

I turned my head slowly to look at him. Did he actually think that I'd tell them something at this place, right before my execution? I let my calm mood take over my face, and smiled softly.

"No."

"Very well. Barricade, you know what to do."

I turned to my mate, and even though his expression hadn't changed, I felt his spark reach out to me, almost with desperate force. For the first time in cycles, I accepted the touch.

'_Cripplerip, please. Don't do this. You __don't have to die. You heard him; he'll spare your life if you only tell him the truth about where the others are hiding.'_

'_You know it won't work like that, Barricade. Stop lying to yourself, you are much too intelligent to do that. Megatron won't let me live even if I'd be locked up forever. His image would suffer too much. I've already done much more than he can tolerate.'_

'_No, no, no… You don't have to do this. Don't make me do this, damn it all, femme…'_

'_I'm sorry, my love. Besides, you can never truly kill me.'_

'_If you only -'_

"No," I whispered out loud. Barricade's faceplates twisted to a mask of terrible agony and with an anguished howl, he thrust the sword into my chest. Or tried to, anyway.

At the last possible moment, I leapt at him, and instead of my own spark, it pierced the spark of our unborn son, and I flared the bond between us wide open for him to see what he'd done, to present to him the agony coursing through my own spark, even as my lips crashed onto his in a last parody of a kiss. I coughed up energon, some of it going to his mouth before he jerked away with a horrified expression from me. The wound would kill me quickly, but I still had a bit of strength in me. I smiled cruelly, the same smile I'd given to each of the Council Members just before I'd killed them, so long ago it could have been in another life.

"You killed your son, Barricade. Now your deeds as a sparkling-murdering war-hero are done."

The world suddenly tilted to the side, my legs failing to hold up my body, and I knew no more.

* * *

**Some time later****, universal POV**

The scrap yard was lightless, only the weak light of the distant stars illuminating the darkness.

Something stirred on top of a pile. A lithe frame stood up shakily, one arm clutching at the lower abdomen sporting a hole roughly the size of a mech's fist slightly on the side. The figure – a femme – looked around, as if wondering what happened. Then, she gave a small chuckle smiled, a crooked, bloodthirsty grin. A promise of violence.

"I told you that you couldn't kill me, my love…"

* * *

Weelllll, that's the end (?) for our Cripplerip... The next chaps will go on to some new faces, which will unfortunately not be staying with us any longer than that. R&R would be nice!


End file.
